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V 



THE 

BOW IN THE CLOUD 



COVENANT MERCY 



THE AFFLICTED. 



: Bow in the clmid ! ivhat token dost thou bear? 
That Justice still cries strike and Mercy spare." 

Montgomery. 



ELEGANTLY ILLUSTRATED. 




PHILADELPHIA: 
PUBLISHED BY E. II. BUTLER & CO. 

1854. 






The Uk ** 

of Cong k ess 

washington 



Entered, according to Act of Congress, in the year 1853, by 

E. H. BUTLER & CO., 

In the Clerk's Office of the District Court of the United States, in and for the Eastern 
District of Pennsylvania. 



PREFATORY NOTE. 



In adding another to the many works designed to 
furnish consolation to the afflicted, the Editor feels that 
he is but meeting the ever-pressing wants of the human 
race, and the ever-earnest demands for comfort by those 
who are visited by bereavement and sorrow. The 
present work, without interfering with or displacing any 
of the valuable treatises which have lately been pub- 
lished, has yet a distinct character of its own, in the 
originality of its design, in the arrangement of its 
several parts, and in gathering together, from choice and 
diverse writers, English and American, the strongest 
and most scriptural consolation which can be offered to 
the sorrowful and stricken-hearted. 

Believing, as the Editor does, that all our springs of 

comfort are in Jesus Christ, that they arc applied to the 

soul by the Holy Ghost, that they are to be sought for 

by the prayer of faith, and that they result from the 

(8) 



iv Prefatory Note. 

overflowing grace of our Heavenly Father, lie has aimed 
to keep these points prominently before the reader, 
being unwilling to lead him to any of the "broken 
cisterns" of earth for consolation, when the well-spring 
of Divine comfort, which can alone staunch his bleeding 
heart, is pouring forth its free and life-giving waters. 
It is the lot of all to be visited with sorrow. There is 
" a time to mourn" marked out in every man's life ; and 
when that time comes, and the fainting spirit turns 
away from the "miserable comforters" of earth, may all 
who consult these pages find in God a refuge from every 
storm, and "a very present help" in every time of 
trouble: and may they be enabled so to look at their 
sorrows, with the clear-sighted eye of faith, that they 
shall discern "a how" in every cloud of affliction, and 
"covenant mercy'" in every shower of grief. 



CONTENTS. 



Mttttmt 



PAGE 

13 



The Chastening Rod in the Father's Hand — James 

Buchanan, D. D. . . . . 15 

Scriptural Selections . . . . .33 

Poetry — Sanctified Affliction . . 34 

Uses of Chastisement — James W. Alexander, D. D. . 35 

Scriptural Selections .... 58 

Poetry— Christ the Purifier . . .59 

TnE Stones of the Heavenly Temple prepared on 

Earth — Wm. Bacon Stevens, D. D. . . GO 

Scriptural Selections . . . . .75 

Poetry — The New Jerusalem . . 70 



Jbbi - Veiling his Dealings— 0. Winslow, D. D. 
Scriptural Selections 

Poetry — Peace iu Affliction 



89 



(6) 



vi Contents. 

gmpsta .... 

Silent Suffering — Philip Doddridge, D. D. 
Scriptural Selections 

Poetry— The Weaned Child 



PAGE 

91 

93 

102 



Songs in the Night Season — Wm. Bacon Stevens, D. D. 104 

Scriptural Selections . . . . .118 

Poetry — Midnight Hymn . . . 119 

The Well Spring in the Desert — James Buchanan, D. D. 120 

Scriptural Selections . . . . 138 

Poetry— The Fountain . . . .139 



The Weaned Child — 0. Winslow, D. D. 
Scriptural Selections . 

Poetry — Glory in Affliction . 



140 
154 
155 



(tomfort 



The Refuge from the Storm — Archbishop Leighlon 
Scriptural Selections .... 
Poetry — Jesus our Hiding Place 



157 
159 
1G8 
169 



The Rainbow; or, Co-tenant Promises seen through 

Tears— Wm. Bacon Stevens, D. D. . . 170 

Scriptural Selections . . . . .191 

Poetry— The Rainbow . . . 192 



Contents. vii 

PAGE 

Entering the Heavenly Gate — Rev. John East, M. A. 193 

Scriptural Selections .... 204 

Poetry — Heaven ..... 205 

The White-Robed Throng — Henry Venn, M. A. . 207 

Scriptural Selections ..... 221 

Poetry — "Who are these in Bright Array V 222 



^caning on tk gdriub 223 

Christ a Man of Sorrows — Edward Payson, D. D. . 225 

Scriptural Selections ..... 240 

Poetry — Looking unto Jesus . . 241 

Christ at Bethany— Robert S. Candlisk, D. D. . . 243 

Scriptural Selections .... 264 

Poetry — Christ's Words to the Sorrowing . 2G5 

The Compassionate High Priest — Wm. Bacon 

Stevens, D.D. . . . . . 2C6 

Scriptural Selections ..... 279 

Poetry— Clinging to Christ ... 280 

Christ the Ki.yiiolder of tiiic Ivikknal WOULD — 

James Buchanan, 1). D. . . . 281 

Scriptural Selections ..... 297 

Poetry — "I am the Resurrection and the Life" 298 



viii Contents. 

PAGE 

%\)t £ltl$ \\\ ICSUS 299 

The Morning Flower Plucked — Wm. Bacon Stevens, D.D. 301 

Scriptural Selections . 310 

Poetry— The Gathered Flower . . 317 

The Sun going down while yet Day — Rev. John Newton 318 

Scriptural Selections .... 337 

Poetry — " Weep not for Her" 



Scriptural Selections 



:::;s 



The Noontide Eclipse — Wm. Bacon Stevens, D. D. 340 



. 348 
Poetry — " He has gone to his God" . 349 

The Setting Sun — Wm. Bacon Stevens, D. D. . . 350 

Scriptural Selection .... 359 

Poetry— Life's Sunset . . . .360 






ILLUSTRATIONS. 

grata vqxmlt fur iljis Wnl, bg &. Bt\nmtln t 

AND ENGRAVED IN TnE FIRST STYLE OF ART. 



SUBJECT PAGE 

THE MORNING FLOATER PLUCKED Frontispiece 

THE STONES OF THE HEAVENLY TEMPLE PREPARED ON EARTH CO 

SILENT SUFFERING 93 

SONGS IN THE NIGHT SEASON 10-1 

THE RAINBOW 170 

THE MOURNER 243 

TnE SUN GOING DOWN WHILE YET DAY 318 

T1II0 NOONTIDE ECLIPSE 340 

Till: H/l'TING SUN 350 



AFFLICTION. 



The Chastening Eod in the Father's Hand. 

" This is my comfort in mine affliction .•"'— Ps. cxix. 50. 
"Be doth not afflict willingly, nor grieve the children of men."— Lam. m. 33. 

ONE of the most solemnly interesting inquiries to 
which the thoughts of a reflecting mind can be di- 
rected is, — To what cause are we to attribute the preva- 
lence and the unequal distribution of affliction in the 
present state? And the solution of this question will 
lead to another of equal importance and interest, viz., 
How far these afflictions should affect our confidence 
in God, or our future hopes under his government ? 

In reference to the first of these questions, viz., To 
what cause we are to attribute the prevalence and the 
unequal distribution of affliction in the present state, 
— both reason and Scripture concur in ascribing every 
affliction with which men are visited, to the i)urpose and 
■providence of God. Suffering docs not arise fortuitously 
in his dominions, but is the product of his deliberate 

(16) 



16 Affliction. 

counsel, and the result of laws which he has established 
for the government of his subjects. It is neither a ne- 
cessary adjunct, nor a casual accident of our nature ; 
not necessary, for omniscient wisdom and almighty 
power might constitute even a created being without 
suffering, — such are now the angels in heaven, and such 
was man before the Fall ; nor accidental, for that were 
to exempt the happiness of his creatures from God's 
control, and virtually to set aside his overruling provi- 
dence. It is true, that suffering sometimes proceeds 
so immediately and so manifestly from the conduct of 
individual men, that to their follies or vices it may be 
ascribed as its proximate cause, — the horrors of disease 
being the natural fruit of profligate manners, and the 
hardships of poverty resulting naturally from habits of 
indolent indulgence, or improvident thoughtlessness. 
But even in such cases, these afflictive results are deter- 
mined by a law which God has established, — a law which 
attaches health and comfort to frugal and temperate 
habits, and entails disease and penury on the opposite 
vices ; and God being the author of that constitution 
of things under which we live, to his sovereign will we 
must look as the ultimate cause of such a connexion 
betwixt sin and its appropriate misery. And, in other 
cases, as in the dread visitation of famine, or pestilence, 
or the more ordinary occurrence of family bereavement, 
we see his hand, as it were, visibly stretched forth : « Is 
there evil in a city," saith the sacred writer, " and the 
Lord hath not done it ?" "I form the light and create 



The Chastening Rod. 17 

darkness, I make peace and create evil ; I the Lord do 
all these things." It was the Lord who rained fire and 
brimstone out of heaven on the cities of the plain ; it 
was the Lord who sent the deluge on the earth, until all 
men and every living thing died ; it was the Lord who 
glorified himself in the destruction of the Egyptian host ; 
and he still guards us against the foolish notion that the 
sufferings of life are fortuitous or accidental, lest we 
should thereby be led to overlook his hand in them, and 
so "to despise the chastening of the Lord." 

Every affliction, then, with which any of us is visited, 
is the result of God's deliberate purpose, and no evil 
befalls us without his permission or appointment. Nor 
are our afflictions to be regarded as the results of the 
careless or capricious exercise of almighty power ; but, 
on the contrary, they are to be ascribed to the most 
comprehensive wisdom, acting according to principles 
which are fixed and determined as laws of the divine 
government. God is not a careless or inattentive spec- 
tator of what passes amongst his subjects ; he does not 
send evil amongst them at random, nor without cause, 
nor without a well-defined end in view : such capricious 
exercise of almighty power is incompatible with the 
possession of omniscient wisdom ; and as his attributes 
forbid, so no exigency in his government can ever re- 
quire it. He cannot be taken by surprise, neither can 
he ad from the impulse of momentary feeling: every 
attribute of his nature, and every principle of his 
government, are alike stable and excellent ; and from 



18 Affliction. 

these, not from caprice or passion, does affliction spring. 
Far less can affliction be ascribed to the deliberate 
exercise of cruelty, or the sudden gust of revenge. If 
the comprehensive wisdom, the almighty power, and the 
perfect independence of God, forbid us to imagine that 
he can, in any case, permit evil to arise through negli- 
gence or caprice, surely the infinite benevolence which 
prompted him to communicate being to his creatures, 
and to open up for them so many sources of enjoyment, 
may well forbid the thought that he is capable of che- 
rishing one vindictive feeling, or of taking delight in the 
infliction of suffering. Infinitely great, and glorious, 
and happy in himself, what possible motive can exist in 
the divine mind for the exercise of these cruel and 
vengeful passions, which he has forbidden his own crea- 
tures to cherish, and by which, where they are indulged, 
his creatures are debased ? Shall we attribute to the 
most glorious Being in the universe those passions by 
which only the basest of mankind are animated, and 
which, wherever they exist, render the character hateful, 
and the bosom which contains them wretched as well as 
guilty ? God forbid : all nature bears witness to the 
benevolence of its author ; and that benevolence assures 
us, that whatever evils may exist under his government, 
they are not inflicted in the exercise of cruelty, or for 
the gratification of passion,— that to whatever other 
cause they may be ascribed, they cannot be referred to 
any disposition on the part of God, that would lead him 
unnecessarily to make his creatures unhappy, or to take 



The Chastening Rod. 19 

pleasure in their suffering. And, in addition to the 
testimony of nature, God does most solemnly disclaim 
every such feeling, and assures us, " that he afflicts not 
■willingly, nor grieves the children of men." 

In these words, it is not denied that affliction proceeds 
from the hand of God ; on the contrary, it is admitted 
that he does afflict and grieve the children of men : but 
then, in regard to the disposition and feelings with 
which he does so, it is affirmed that he « afflicteth not 
willingly." This cannot be understood to signify that 
affliction comes without the will, or contrary to the pur- 
pose of God, or that he does not approve of the painful 
discipline to which his people are subjected. On the 
contrary, every suffering which he inflicts is the fruit 
of his deliberate wisdom, and the object of his holy 
approbation. But when it is said that he " afflicteth 
not willingly '," we are given to understand that he has 
no pleasure in the misery of his creatures, considered 
in itself, and apart from its causes and ends ; that he 
does not lift the rod merely to render them unhappy, 
and far less to gratify his own passion ; that, but for 
moral considerations, physical happiness is with him a 
far more pleasing thing than physical suffering ; and 
that, while lie has no pleasure in making his subjects 
wretched, he does delight in their comfort and well-being. 
This view, indeed, of the feelings with which God eon- 
templates the sufferings of his creatures, necessarily 
arises out of the simplest idea which we can form of his 
character, as a perfectly wise and good Being; and to 



-0 Affliction. 

what cause, then, it may be asked, are we to ascribe 
the sufferings which do actually prevail under his ad- 
ministration ? The Bible enables us fully to answer 
this question, by the views which it presents of God's 
character, as the Governor of the world ; and of the 
present state, as one of respite and trial. 

God is revealed, not only as a being of infinite moral 
perfection and blessedness, but as the righteous moral 
governor of his intelligent creatures ; and the course of 
his providence is represented as not only comprehending 
the means by which he preserves them in existence, but 
also as constituting the discipline by which the ends of 
his moral government are fulfilled. To the idea of a 
moral government a law of some kind is absolutely 
essential, and a law of any kind being given, it was 
necessary that it should be accompanied with such sanc- 
tions of reward and punishment, as might put a differ- 
ence betwixt the obedient and disobedient subjects of 
it. Hence, if by any means sin should appear, God 
determined that suffering should arise along with it ; and 
in the very structure of our own being, he has instituted 
physical checks as well as moral restraints to disobedi- 
ence, and has connected therewith not only the pangs 
of an accusing conscience, but also a numerous train of 
diseases, and the sentence of death. These arrange- 
ments, by which suffering is inseparably connected with 
sin, are far from being arbitrary ; they flow necessarily 
from the perfections of the divine nature. Could we, 
indeed, entertain, for one instant, the monstrous idea, 



The Chastening Rod. 21 

that God, although possessed of infinite power, and 
wisdom, and benevolence, was nevertheless, in moral 
respects, a being of a neutral character, — that he had no 
holiness, no rectitude, no justice, — that he had no pre- 
dilection for one style of moral character in his subjects, 
more than another, — that ingratitude, and sensuality, 
and deceit, were not more offensive to him than the 
opposite virtues, — then, and then only, could we conceive 
of him lavishing the wealth of almighty power and un- 
bounded beneficence on all his creatures alike, and mak- 
ing no difference betwixt seraphic virtue and satanic 
guilt ; but, being holy and just, as well as good, he 
must necessarily approve of what is congenial to his 
own character, and conformable to that law which is 
but the transcript of his character, and the expression 
of his unchangeable will. Although, therefore, from 
the benevolence of his nature, he must delight in the 
diffusion of happiness, yet, from the holiness and recti- 
tude of his character, the principle, that sin should be 
connected with suffering, must be the object of his 



moral approbation. 



Farther, men are not. only represented in Scripture as 
the subjects of a moral government, but as subjects 
placed in a very peculiar and interesting stale, a state 
of acknowledged guilt, yet of delayed punishment, in 
order to their probation and trial fur an everlasting 
destiny hereafter. Their present state is not one of 
"retribution, but of respite,"* — sentence has been 

*'Dn. Oonnoy. 



22 Affliction. 

passed against them as guilty, but the effect of that 
sentence has been for a time suspended, in order to the 
application of means, on the part of God, for their re- 
demption ; and being neither like the angels, perfectly 
holy and happy, nor like devils, absolutely lost, they 
occupy a middle state, which may be either the scene 
of their education for heaven, or of their preparation 
for hell. To one or other of these departments of the 
invisible world, all will ere long be transferred ; but, 
meanwhile, they are dealt Avith as creatures that have 
incurred condemnation, but who, through the mercy of 
God, are capable of rising to glory. 

These two views, the one of God's character, as a 
moral governor and judge, and the other of mankind, 
as sinners in a state of respite and trial, satisfactorily 
account both for the sufferings which men endure, and 
for the unequal distribution of them. Were there no 
sin, there would be no suffering ; or were this the place 
of strict retribution, suffering would be awarded accord- 
ing to the amount of guilt ; but it being a middle state, 
enjoyment and sorrow are so intermingled as to prove, 
at once, the benevolence and the rectitude of God. To 
the great moral ends of this economy, the discipline of 
affliction is, in many respects, needful ; and hence the 
varied evils with which God has seen meet to visit us. 
Of these afflictions, viewed as parts of his own pro- 
cedure, and a means of salutary discipline, God must 
be supposed to entertain a holy moral approbation ; and 
yet, in none of his dispensations, however dark and dis- 



The Chastening Rod. 23 

tressing, does he take pleasure in inflicting unnecessary 
suffering, or in making his creatures unhappy ; for it is 
expressly declared, that "he has no pleasure in the 
death of the sinner," and that "he does not afflict wil- 
lingly, nor grieve the children of men." 

These views throw an interesting light, both on the 
character of God, and on the nature and design of afflic- 
tion under his government. As God is to be regarded 
both as an affectionate father and a righteous judge, so 
affliction is presented in two lights in Scripture, in each 
of which, it is compatible with the most perfect benevo- 
lence in the divine mind. It is there represented as 
being partly corrective and partly penal ; at one time, 
the chastisement of an affectionate father ; at another, 
the award of a righteous judge ; while, in both, it is 
declared to be the result of sin. In neither case is it 
the spontaneous infliction of one who delights in suffer- 
ing for its own sake, but the result of principles from 
which no Avise father or judge will ever depart in the 
management of his children or subjects. 

The meaning of the declaration, that " God does not 
afflict willingly, nor grieve the children of men," may, 
perhaps, be best illustrated, if, conceiving of him as the 
father and governor of his rational creatures, we take 
as an illustration, the parallel case of an affectionate 
father, or a benevolent judge, among ourselves. 

Take the case of an earthly parent: suppose him to 
be endowed with all the tenderest sensibilities of nature, 



24 Affliction. 

— conceive of him as delighting in the health and wel- 
fare of his children, and, in the exercise of every benevo- 
lent affection, lavishing on them all the riches of a 
father's kindness and a fa titer's care. You say, on 
looking at his benignant countenance and his smiling 
family, this is an affectionate father. But a secret can- 
ker of ingratitude seizes one or more of his children, — 
they shun his presence, or dislike his society, and at 
length venture on acts of positive disobedience ; he -warns 
them, he expostulates -with them, but in vain, they re- 
volt more and more ; and at length, in the exercise of 
deliberate thought, he lifts the rod and chastens them ; 
and he who once was the author of all their happiness, 
has become also their calm but firm reprover. And who 
that knows the tenderness of a father's heart, will not 
acknowledge, that severe as may be the suffering inflict- 
ed, such a man doth not afflict willingly, nor grieve the 
children of his love ? 

Again, conceive of a man of benevolent feelings 
invested with the office of magistrate or judge, — con- 
ceive of Howard, the unwearied friend of his race, who 
visited the prisons of Europe to alleviate the miseries 
of the worst and most destitute of men, — conceive of 
such a man sitting in judgment over the life or liberty 
of another ; and can you not suppose that, while every 
feeling within him inclined him to the side of mercy, 
and his every sensibility would be gratified, were it 
possible to make the felon virtuous and happy, he might, 
notwithstanding, have such a deep moral persuasion of 



The Chastening Kod. 25 

the importance of virtue and order to the vrell-being of 
the state, that he could consign the prisoner to a dun- 
geon or the gallows, and that, too, with the perfect 
conviction that it was right and good to do so ; while, 
still, every sentiment of the heart within him, if it 
could be disclosed, would bear witness that he afflicted 
not willingly, and that he had no pleasure in the death 
of the criminal ? 

Such a father and such a judge is God ; and the 
sufferings which he inflicts, whether they be viewed as 
corrective or penal, are compatible with the loftiest 
benevolence in the divine mind. And unquestionably, 
the fact, that " God cloth not afflict willingly, nor grieve 
the children of men," may, in one light, be regarded as 
a ground of consolation, inasmuch as it assures us that 
the Almighty Being, in whose hands our destinies are 
placed, has no pleasure in the mere infliction of suffer- 
ing, — that, in his holy mind, not one passion exists 
which can be gratified by it, — and that, even "as a 
father pitieth his children, so the Lord pitieth them 
that fear him." 

We confine our present meditation to the mere nega- 
tive vieiu of affliction, that it is not the result of a 
capricious or cruel delight in suffering on the part of 
God: hereafter we shall sec abundant reason to believe 
that it is, under a system of grace, the result of pure 
and comprehensive benevolence, and the means of much 
positive good. In the mean while, lei us not allow even 
the darkest aspects of God's providence to shake our 
4 



2G Affliction. 

faith in the benevolence of his character ; and when, 
through the sharp inflictions of his rod, we are tempted 
to entertain hard thoughts of Him, let us remember the 
precious truth, that " God afflicteth not willingly, nor 
grieveth the children of men." 

But while these views are, in some respects, highly 
consolatory, inasmuch as they assure us of the benevo- 
lence of God, yet, to every reflecting mind, another 
question will suggest itself, to which, without such a 
revelation as is contained in the Gospel, no satisfactory 
answer can, in our opinion, be returned. The benevo- 
lence of God being admitted, the question arises, How 
far the afflictions which do prevail, notwithstanding, 
should affect our hopes of future happiness under His 
government ? To those who rest their hopes of exemp- 
tion from future punishment on the mere general bene- 
volence of God, this should be a very serious and solemn 
inquiry ; for God is, at this moment, a Being of infinite 
benevolence, and yet, suffering to a great extent pre- 
vails in his empire ; and the question may well be 
entertained, whether, being afflicted now under his 
administration, we may not, for the same reasons, be 
equally or still more afflicted hereafter ? And this in- 
quiry becomes the more serious, when we connect afflic- 
tion with the causes to which it is ascribed. What are 
these causes ? why, they are the sins with which we are 
chargeable on the one hand, and the holiness and justice 
of God's character on the other. But an effect can only 
be prevented by the removal of its cause ; and is it not 



The Chastening Rod. 27 

a very solemn reflection, that the holiness and justice 
of God are unchangeable attributes of his nature ; and 
that, if we continue to be chargeable with sin, they 
must, for aught we know, perpetuate our sufferings ? 
So far from allaying our apprehensions from this cause, 
the fact that God « afflicteth not willingly, nor grieveth 
the children of men," gives a very awful sanction to the 
moral principles of his government, when, notwithstand- 
ing his benevolence, he does visit his creatures with 
severe calamity. The benevolence of God being ad- 
mitted, the whole course of his providence may be 
regarded as a very solemn exhibition of the holiness 
and justice of the divine government. And unless, in 
these circumstances, we can discover some way of escap- 
ing from guilt, or can entertain the delusive hope, that 
God's holy and righteous government is to be radically 
changed, we cannot fail to have many dark thoughts, 
and many anxious fears, respecting our future prospects. 
We see that God is wise, and righteous, and benevolent, 
and yet notwithstanding, or rather for that very reason, 
we feel that God is pouring many a bitter ingredient 
into our cup, — that he is visiting us with trials of a very 
severe and confounding nature ; and can we help inquir- 
ing whether it will be so for ever ? whether this life is 
to be the pattern of our immortal existence? or whether, 
in the eternity which awaits us, we have reason to ex- 
pect either the unmingled good, or the unmingled evil 
which are combined, at present, in the chequered scene 
of life? We want some assurance, od this point, to 



28 Affliction. 

remove our doubts, and misgivings, and fears ; and, 
without such assurance, we feel that our eternal pros- 
pects are dark and uncertain indeed. 

These misgivings are not without a foundation in 
reason ; for manifold as are the proofs which our own 
experience supplies of the benevolent character of God, 
and explicit as is the sanction which Scripture gives to 
the indications of nature, there are many things, not- 
withstanding, both in nature and in Scripture, which 
are fitted to awaken alarm respecting the relation in 
which we stand to that august Being, and the mode in 
which he may yet deal with us here and hereafter. God 
may be perfectly wise, and just, and good; yet, con- 
ceiving of him as the moral Governor and Judge of 
mankind, we cannot fail to understand that he must put 
a difference betwixt the righteous and the wicked, — 
that his administration may require the sanction of 
punishment, and that the very perfection of his charac- 
ter may thus become the strongest reason for the inflic- 
tion of suffering, where his law has been dishonoured, 
and his authority contemned. The infinite power, and 
rectitude, and wisdom of God, which, to innocent beings, 
must be a source of the highest and purest delight, may 
thus become, to fallen creatures, the occasion of alarm, 
and suspicion, and jealousy ; and a secret distrust of 
their interest in his favour will prey upon their minds, 
even in the midst of all the riches of his benevolence 
which nature displays. 

Accordingly, may I not appeal to every human being, 



The Chastening Rod. 29 

whether he has not felt in his own bosom many a secret 
misgiving respecting his personal interest in the favour 
of his Judge, and many a dark foreboding in respect to 
his future prospects, and that, too, while he could not 
shut his eyes to the evidence, nor bring himself to deny 
the reality of God's wisdom, and rectitude, and love ? 
The reason is, that every man knows and feels that he 
is guilty ; that he has violated the law, and forsaken 
the service of God ; and that God, being a righteous 
governor, may, notwithstanding his benevolence, be 
disposed to punish transgressors. Conscience makes 
this suggestion, and the course of God's providence 
confirms it ; else, why so much suffering, if a benevolent 
God entertains no hatred against sin ? The feelings of 
our OAvn minds must convince us, that the present course 
of God's providence is utterly irreconcilable with the 
idea, either of his wisdom or benevolence, unless, in our 
own conduct, he finds a holy reason for his method of 
dealing with us ; and no conscience can be so blinded 
as not to perceive much in the state and conduct of 
every man, that may warrant a Holy God in inflicting 
suffering and death. 

The Bible does unquestionably, in the first instance, 
con firm the testimony of nature and conscience in re- 
spect to the present state of trial. It acknowledges 
the existence of sorrow and suffering, under the govern- 
ment of a most wise and benevolent God; it declares 
that, notwithstanding the moral faculties which God 
hath given to us, and the moral indications which the 



30 Affliction. 

course of providence affords, good and evil are not here 
dealt out according to the strict measure of desert ; 
and the reason which it assigns for the sufferings that 
prevail in the world, is the prevalence of sin, while it 
attributes the regular distribution of good and evil, to 
the nature of the present state, as one of respite and 
trial for an eternal state after death. Had its commu- 
nications stopped at this point, it would have confirmed 
our worst fears, and deepened our most distressing 
thoughts ; for, when revealing, as it does, the benevo- 
lence of God, it declares notwithstanding, that even 
under his government, sin must be connected with suf- 
fering ; and when it points to an eternal state, where 
the principles of his holy and righteous administration 
shall have their ultimate issue, and be more fully un- 
folded, how could we avoid the apprehension that we 
are obnoxious to the displeasure of our Almighty Judge, 
and in danger of an eternal state of retribution from 
his righteous hand ? So far from allaying these appre- 
hensions, in the first instance, or declaring them to be 
unreasonable in themselves, or inconsistent with our 
just deserts, it is one leading object of the Bible to con- 
firm their certainty, to impress their truth on the heart, 
and to assure us that judgments, infinitely more awful 
than those which prevail in the present world, await the 
transgressors of the Divine law, in a future state of 
strict judicial retribution. The Bible sanctions all the 
judgments which conscience has ever pronounced against 
us : it delineates our characters in the darkest 



The Chastening Rod. 31 

of guilt ; and it affirms that, notwithstanding the bene- 
volence of God, sin cannot escape punishment, without 
inferring a violation of those eternal principles on which 
the government of the universe is conducted, and on 
the maintenance of which, the glory of God, and the 
happiness of his obedient creatures depend. 

Are any who now meditate on this serious subject 
along with me ready to exclaim, How, then, can the 
Bible be our comfort in affliction — the Bible, which pre- 
sents a more humiliating view of our character, and a 
more distressing view of our state, and a more alarming 
view of our everlasting prospects, than what is contained 
in any other book, or what has been suggested from 
any other quarter, or what, fearful and desponding as 
Ave are, we have ever been willing to entertain ? Ah ! 
brethren, you see how true it is, that the Bible does 
not seek to comfort you by denying the evils of your 
condition, or by withdrawing your attention from them, 
or by soothing you with partial views of their extent, 
or by delusive expectations of their removal. It probes 
your case to the very bottom. It unfolds all the evil 
that is within, or around, or before you. And this it 
does, not only from a regard to truth, which, however 
dark and distressing, cannot be compromised in any 
communication from God to his creatures, but also, 
and especially, with a view to shatter your confidence 
in every spring of spurious comfort, and every false 
ground of hope, and to lead you in simplicity to a 
ground of consolation, which alone can cheer your 



32 Affliction. 

hearts amidst your present sorrows, and support your 
spirits in the prospect of what is yet before you ; and 
which, bearing as it does the impress of God's hand, 
shall endure, when all other confidences are shattered, 
and all other hopes destroyed. 

Buchanan. 



The Chastening Rod. 



Scriptural Selections. 

Furthermore, we have had fathers of our flesh which corrected us, 
and we gave thern reverence : shall we not much rather be in subjec- 
tion unto the Father of spirits, and live? — Heb. xii. 9. 

And all the inhabitants of the earth are reputed as nothing : and he 
doeth according to his will in the army of heaven, and among the in- 
habitants of the earth : and none can stay his hand, or say unto him, 
"What doest thou ? — Dan. iv. 35. 

All the paths of the Lord are mercy and truth unto such as keep 
his covenants and his testimonies. — Ps. xxv. 10. 

For the rod of the wicked shall not rest upon the lot of the right- 
eous; lest the righteous put forth their hands unto iniquity. — Ps. 
cxv. 3. 

As many as I love, I rebuke and chasten : be zealous, therefore, and 
repent. — Rev. iii. 19. 

That be far from thee to do after this manner, to slay the righteous 
with the wicked ; and that the righteous should be as the wicked, that 
be far from thee: Shall not the Judge of all the earth do right? — 
Gen. xviii. 26. 

I know, Lord, that thy judgments are right, and that thou in 
faithfulness hast afflicted me. — Ps. cxix. 75. 

And I will cause you to pass under the rod, and I will bring you 
into the bond of the covenant. — Ez. xx. 37. 



84 



Affliction. 



Sanctified Affliction. 

Lord, unafflicted, undismayed, 
In pleasure's path how long I strayed : 
But thou hast made me feel thy rod, 
And turned my soul to thee, my God. 

What though it pierced my fainting heart, 
I bless thy hand that caused the smart ; 
It taught my tears awhile to flow, 
But saved me from eternal woe. 

0, hadst thou left me unchastised, 
Thy precepts I had still despised, 
And still the snare in secret laid 
Had my unwary feet betrayed. 



I love thy chastenings, my God, 
They fix my hopes on thy abode ; 
"Where, in thy presence fully blest, 
Thy stricken saints for ever rest. 



Uses of Chastisement. 



EVERY man," says the excellent Bishop Hall, "hath 
his turn of sorrow, whereby (some more, some 
less) all men are in their times miserable. I never 
yet could meet with the man that complained not of 
somewhat. Before sorrow come, I will prepare for it. 
When it is come, I will welcome it. When it goes, I will 
take but half a farewell of it, as still expecting its return." 

There is then no one who can take up these humble 
pages without finding in them something applicable to 
his own case. And, therefore, I am encouraged to pro- 
ceed with the following address to sufferers, of whatever 
kind. 

It is only in the Word of God that we learn to con- 
sider affliction as a blessing. The utmost which the 
most refined philosophy can effect, is to remove from 
our sorrows that which is imaginary, to divert the at- 
tention from the cause of distress, or to produce a sullen 
and Btoical resignation, more like despair than hope. 

The religion of the gospel grapples with the e\il itself, 
overcomes it, and transforms it into a blessing. It is 
by no mean- included in the promises made to true 

(85) 



36 Affliction. 

Christians that they shall be exempt from suffering. 
On the contrary, chastisement forms a necessary part 
of that paternal discipline, by which our heavenly 
Father fits his children for their eternal rest and glory. 
The Psalmist asserts the blessedness of the man who is 
chastened by the Lord, with this qualification as neces- 
sary to constitute it a blessing, that he is also instructed 
in divine truth. Psalm xciv. 12. By this we under- 
stand that the influence of chastisement is not physical ; 
that mere suffering has no inherent efficacy ; but that 
the afflictions of this life are, in the hand of God, in- 
strumental in impressing divine truth upon the heart, 
awakening the attention of the believer to the considera- 
tion of his own character and situation, the promises of 
the gospel, and the rewards of heaven. The child of 
God is assured that all things work together for his 
good : in this is plainly included the pledge, that chas- 
tisements and afflictions shall eventually prove a bless- 
ing ; and this is verified by the experience of the whole 
church. 

The subject can scarcely ever be inappropriate. "We 
are all familiar with suffering, in our own persons, or 
the persons of those whom Ave love : we are either now 
enduring, or shall at some future time endure severe 
afflictions. Among our readers, it is natural to suppose 
that some are at this very moment labouring under 
burdens of grief. Some, it may be, are experiencing 
the infirmities and pains of a diseased body, others are 
mourning over the loss of friends and relatives, and 



Uses of Chastisement. 37 

others still are living in the dread of trials yet to come. 
There are few of us therefore to whom the inquiry may 
not be interesting, How is affliction a blessing ? 

1. Chastisement is useful, because it tends to con- 
vince the believer of his misery, and shows him that 
without Christ he cannot be happy. And in order to 
bring this subject more directly before the mind, let me 
for a moment consider my readers as suffering under 
the pangs of some great affliction. You will at once 
agree with me in the position, that if you had more faith. 
you would have less trouble of mind ; or rather, that if 
you had faith sufficient, you would be altogether clear 
from the deep impressions which afflict you. Because 
we very well know from our own experience, that there 
are cases in which the most severe bodily pains, or 
mental distresses, have, so to speak, been neutralized 
by considerations of a spiritual kind. This is exem- 
plified in the history of the whole Christian Church, 
and of every individual believer, and most remarkably 
in the sufferings and death of the Martyrs. There is 
then a certain point of elevation in divine trust, confi- 
dence in God, reliance on the providence, grace, and 
promise of God ; that is, a certain degree of faith, which 
would entirely free you from these trials of mind. I 
take it for granted that you heartily concur in this, and 
that you feel at this very moment of Buffering that no 
gift of (mmI would so effectually bless you, as this gift 
of faith. Your trials and afflictions, therefore, produce 
in your '-iil a deep feeling of want. You are now sen- 



Affliction. 



sible that you need more of the presence of Christ : that 
your piety is not in sufficient exercise to make you 
happy under your chastisements. In the moments 
when forebodings and fears become most oppressive, 
you are most strongly impressed with the truth, that 
you still lack a great deal ; and your desires are quick- 
ened for that measure of faith which shall enable you, 
with filial confidence, to leave all in the hands of God. 
If these are your feelings, you are now ready to 
acknowledge, that chastisement has already produced 
in you one part of its intended effect. You are brought 
to feel that you are totally dependent on God for your 
comfort ; that nothing but high measures of piety can 
render you independent of these clouds of trial, and 
that. the attainments which you have made are insuffi- 
cient to this end. You are brought to desire of God 
that grace which shall be sufficient for you, and to say, 
with the disciples : " Lord, increase our faith !" This is 
one great end of chastisement, to humble man from his 
self-sufficiency, and make him feel, in the most profound 
manner, that in God he lives, and moves, and has his 
being. Afflicted brethren, you never felt in your hours 
of ease (we venture to affirm) so fully dependent upon 
God's will, as you do at this present time. Perhaps, 
if entire prosperity had continued, you would never 
have felt this persuasion ; thus a most important point 
is gained in your spiritual progress. It is so in this 
respect, it prepares you for receiving the blessing. It 
is not God's method, in the ordinary economy of His 



Uses of Chastisement. 39 

grace, to give favours of a spiritual kind, until the soul 
feels its need of them. He " will be inquired of for 
these things," even when he purposes to vouchsafe them. 
It is in answer to earnest longings, pantings, hungering 
and thirstings of the spirit, that the Lord manifests 
himself in the most remarkable manner. You have 
been brought by chastisement to the very point, where 
you ought to desire to be brought ; and where perhaps 
nothing but this affliction would have brought you, the 
total renunciation of your own strength, and the casting 
of yourself upon the strength of God. Now you begin 
more deeply to feel your need of Christ. Now you are 
convinced that something more is necessary than that 
vague and intermitted trust which you commonly in- 
dulge ; that Christ must be embraced by your faith, 
and not visited merely by occasional devotions ; in a 
word, that you must constantly be "looking to Jesus." 
If these things are so ; if you are persuaded that 
nothing except strong faith can heal your wounded 
spirit ; if you are conscious that you still lack such 
faith ; if you earnestly and constantly desire it ; the 
question becomes exceedingly interesting to you : " Can 
I attain it ?" And if this could be at once answered in 
the affirmative, to your full satisfaction, it would go far 
towards an entire banishment from your soul of these 
poignanl distresses. Now in proportion as your soul is 
engaged in seeking this inestimable blessing, in just that 
proportion Avill your acts of faith be increased. As 
Chrisl becomes more and more presenl to your mind, 



40 Affliction. 

you will, with more and more confidence, lean upon him 
with son-like assurance. And, therefore, without en- 
deavouring to resolve the question, when, how, or in 
what precise manner, God will give you the grace which 
you need, it is sufficient for our present purpose to know, 
that one great end of your affliction is answered, when 
you are led to commence and persevere in a faithful and 
earnest application to Christ, as the great Physician. 

Ah ! how little do Christians ponder on the truth, 
that by their lives of carelessness they are rendering 
afflictions necessary ! While they are at ease in Zion, 
forsaking their first love, and declining from the path 
of strict piety, the cloud is gathering darker and darker 
over their heads ; that cloud of judgment and of mercy 
which is to drive them up from their unlawful resting- 
places, and alarm them into a renewal of their pilgrim- 
age. Afflicted brethren ! ye thought not, while ye were 
at ease, that these trials were in reserve for you, though 
often forewarned by the preachers of the gospel, and 
the experience of your brethren. The trial has now 
come ; you have now to retrace your steps ; you now 
feel that none but Christ can bring you back to happi- 
ness ; and you are humbly asking for the blessings of 
his hand. Thus it is that chastisement convinces the 
believer of his misery, and shows him that afar from the 
Saviour he can never be at peace. 

2. Chastisement is useful, as it leads the believer to 
see and feel his exceeding sinfulness. It is one of the 
strongest proofs that our sanctification is imperfect, and 



Uses or Chastisement. 41 

our self-love inordinate, that we are -wrought upon so 
much more readily by stripes than by favours. Though 
the Lord's goodness ought to lead us to repentance, yet 
we generally observe that the heart grows hard under 
the smiles of Providence, and thus loudly calls for the 
necessary strokes of God's correcting hand. It is a 
favour-able indication of reigning grace, when any soul, 
in the sunshine of great worldly prosperity, is consider- 
ate, humble, and constant in walking with God. In 
too many cases, it is far otherwise. And when sudden 
affliction breaks in a storm upon the head of one who 
has been relapsing into carnal security, the surprise 
and consternation are great and almost insupportable. 
After the first tumult of the soul, it is natural to look 
around for some solace or support ; and in the case of 
a true Christian, the resort will at once be to the con- 
solations of religion. Like the little child which strays 
from its watchful and tender parent, during the hours 
of play, but hastens back at the approach of alarm, so 
the believer, overtaken by calamity, awakes from his 
dream, and endeavours to retrace his steps to the neg- 
lected mercy-seat. But ah ! in how many cases does 
he here learn his lamentable distance from God ; and 
how mournfully is he made to cry, "0 that I knew 
where I might find him !" He who is habitually walk- 
ing with God does not suffer this, for the whole armour 
of God protects him from the most unexpected assaults : 
• • he is dot afraid of evil tidings, bis bearl is fixed, trust- 
ing in the Lord ;" but the slumbering and lukewarm 
G 



42 Affliction. 

professor sinks disheartened. In vain does he apply 
himself to earthly solaces for alleviation of his grief. 
With shame and pain of conscience, does he endeavour 
to ask deliverance of his oifended Father. Every peti- 
tion that he utters, is accompanied with a sense of weak- 
ness. The blessedness which once he spake of is gone ; 
the habit of devout waiting upon God is suspended ; the 
way to the throne of grace is obstructed. How confi- 
dently would he offer his petitions, if he were persuaded 
of his own acceptance : how gladly would he plead the 
promises, if he felt his title to them secured in Christ ! 
But alas ! it is not with him as in days that are past, 
when the candle of the Lord shone on him. 

Now his repentings are kindled : now he knows how 
evil and bitter a thing it is to forsake the Lord, and to 
depart from his fear ; and when he considers how long 
God has borne with him, how many favours he has re- 
ceived, and how brutish has been his ingratitude, his 
heart is broken, his tears flow, he seeks the lowest place 
in the dust of abasement, wonders that affliction has not 
long since overtaken him for his carelessness and neglect, 
and bows before the Lord without a murmur. At such 
a time the language of the afflicted soul will be : " Where- 
fore doth a living man complain, a man for the punish- 
ment of his sins ? Let us search and try our ways, and 
turn again to the Lord : let us lift up our heart with 
our hands unto God in the heavens : we have transgressed 
and have rebelled, thou hast not pardoned, thou hast 
covered thyself with a cloud that our prayer should not 



Uses of Chastisement. 43 

pass through : mine eye trickleth clown and ceaseth not, 
without any intermission, till the Lord look down and 
behold from heaven." 

"When chastisement has its proper operation, the be- 
liever will seek not to be comforted merely, but to be 
taught of God. "Blessed is the man whom thou 
chastenest, Lord, and teachest him out of thy law." 
He seeks to know why God contends with him, and lies 
very low in contrition, when the still small voice of the 
Lord says to him, " The Lord hath a controversy with 
his people, and he will plead with Israel : my people, 
what have I done unto thee, and wherein have I wearied 
thee, testify against me." And this exercise leads to 
godly sorrow which is not to be repented of. It is under 
deep affliction that we feel most deeply the connexion 
between sin and misery, and acknowledge that the con- 
nexion is just and holy. Smarting under the rod, we 
know that the Lord hath not dealt with us after our 
sins, nor rewarded us according to our iniquities ; and 
that it is of his mercies that wc are not consumed. 

Times of affliction afford some natural facilities for 
cultivating repentance. Occasions of sin are then re- 
moved ; the world is excluded. The man confined to 
llic silence of the sick-room, or the house of mourning, 
cannot, by idle pursuits, divert his mind. He is forced 
to think; and to think of his sins. He considers his 

ways, bewails hifl transgression, and renews bis C0V6- 
nant. lie barns to confess, " Surely it is meet to be 

said onto Crod, I have borne chastisement, I will not 



44 Affliction. 

offend any more ; that which I sec not teach thou me, 
and if I have done iniquity, I will do so no more."— 
Job, xxxiv. 31. 

Now, in these experiences of the afflicted, there is a 
real consolation. Such tears are sweet, and it will 
probably be the unanimous testimony of all true peni- 
tents, that they have enjoyed a tender and refined de- 
light in those moments of grief, in which they came to 
God as a forgiving God, and heard him say to their 
souls, in accents at once of gentle rebuke and comfort : 
« Behold, I have refined thee, but not with silver ; I have 
chosen thee in the furnace of affliction," « for mine own 
sake will I defer mine anger." "For a small moment 
have I forsaken thee, but with great mercies will I 
gather thee : In a little wrath I hid my face from thee 
for a moment, but with everlasting kindness will I have 
mercy on thee, saith the Lord thy Redeemer." 
3. Chastisement is useful as a trial of faith. 
To use another expression of Bishop Hall, " untried 
faith is uncertain faith." There often is in professors 
of religion enough of the semblance of piety to lull their 
consciences while they are prosperous, but not enough 
of the reality to support them in the time of trial. Ad- 
versity makes the exercise of faith needful, and puts 
the strength of that faith to the test. It is compared 
to the fire, the furnace, the fining-pot or crucible, be- 
cause it not only purifies, but tries ; it not only con- 
sumes the dross, but ascertains the gold. 

There is no true believer who does not desire this 



Uses of Chastisement. 



45 



trial. The very supposition of being found wanting, at 
the day of judgment, fills him with horror. His daily 
supplication is : " Search me, God, and know my 
heart ; try me, and know my thoughts ; and see if there 
be any wicked way in me, and lead me in the way ever- 
lasting." Christian reader, give a moment's thought 
to this question, " Is your faith sufficient to support 
you in the hour of death, if that hour (as is very possi- 
ble) should soon and suddenly arrive ?" Are you not 
ready to sink under ordinary afflictions ? How then 
will you bear this greatest of trials ? To adopt the 
language of Jeremiah (xii. 5), " If thou hast run with 
the footmen, and they have wearied thee, then how canst 
thou contend with horses ? And if, in the land of peace, 
wherein thou trustest, they Avearied thee, then how wilt 
thou do in the swellings of Jordan?" 

This trial of your faith is plainly important, and it is 
the office of chastisement to constrain you to such a 
trial. If your standing in the covenant is so firm, 
through humble trust in God, that you can say, « But 
he knoweth the way that I take, when he hath tried me 
I shall come forth as gold," you are happy indeed. 
But this conviction is not likely to be strong in those 
who have not passed through the furnace. The apostle 
Peter, in comforting the dispersed saints, explains to 
them this end of their chastisement, "If need lie. ye 
are in heaviness through manifold temptations, tint the 
trial <>!' your faith being much more precious than of 
gold thai perisheth, though it be tried with fire, might 



46 Affliction. 

be found unto praise, and honour, and glory, at the ap- 
pearing of Jesus Christ." 

We have already seen, in the course of our medita- 
tions, some of the ways in which faith is tried by afflic- 
tion. If any be afflicted, he will pray. But there can 
be no comfort in prayer, where there is not a belief 
that prayer is heard, and will be answered. The sup- 
plication of one who pours out strong crying and tears, 
in a great fight of afflictions, is a very different thing 
from the formal addresses of one at ease. The sufferer 
cannot be consoled until he finds that God is his friend ; 
he cannot find this without faith : and in this manner, 
most directly, chastisement convinces the soul, that it 
is still unprovided with the shield of faith, or awakens 
the exercise of this grace, with great and unspeakable 
satisfaction. And thus the tribulations which have suc- 
ceeded one another through life, give us stronger and 
stronger reliance on God, for the approaching hour of 
death. 

4. Chastisement is useful, as it strengthens faith, by 
leading the believer to the promises, and especially to 
the Lord Jesus Christ. 

There is no expression in the Word of God better 
suited to reconcile the Christian to trials than that of 
the Apostle Paul : " He [that is God] chastens us for 
our profit, that we may be partakers of His holiness" — 
partakers of His holiness ! What words are these ! 
This is the very summit of your desires. This you 
have been toiling for, and longing after. This you 



Uses op Chastisement. 47 

have earnestly implored, and are you now ready to 
shrink from the very means by which your Father in 
heaven is about to promote your sanctification ? By no 
means will you be led to relinquish this appointment of 
God for your good. Now it is by these very trials that 
your graces are to be invigorated. 

We have seen that such trials disclose the reality and 
degree of our faith. We may go further, and observe, 
that faith is greatly increased and strengthened by the 
same process. Faith is strengthened by exercise. As 
the touch, or any natural faculty, becomes obtuse, and 
often useless, by want of exercise, or the removal of its 
proper objects, so faith languishes and seems ready to 
perish, when those truths which are to be believed are 
long kept out of the mind. The most valuable truths 
of the Christian are, " the exceeding great and precious 
promises." He does not feel his need of these promises 
while he is indulging in that self-pleasing which usually 
accompanies prosperity. In penning these lines, it is 
said advisedly, no man can fully value health who has 
not been sick, nor appreciate the services of the kind 
and skilful physician, until he has been healed by him. 
And thus also, no man can fully prize, or fully under- 
stand the promises of the Scriptures, until they are made 
necessary to his support in adversity. Many of the 
most precious portions of revelation arc altogether a 
dead letter to such as have never been exercised by the 
t rials to which they relate. 

The believer who is in Bufferings or straits of any 



jg Affliction. 

kind, comes to God by prayer ; and in attempting to 
pray, seeks some promise suitable to his precise wants. 
Blessed be God ! lie needs not to search long— so rich 
are the treasures of the Word. These promises he takes 
as the very truth of God. He pleads them at the throne 
of grace ; he believes them, relies on them, rejoices in 
them. This is faith ; these exercises are vital exercises 
of the renewed soul. So long as the Christian is op- 
pressed with affliction, these exercises must be con- 
tinual ; and in proportion as the trial is great, must the 
faith be great also, so that he often finds every earthly 
support cut away, and is taught with implicit trust, to 
hang on the simple word of Divine faithfulness. This 
is emphatically the life of piety ; and it is encouraged, 
developed, and maintained in time of trial. 

Affliction is sanctified when we are made to feel that 
nothing can satisfy us but God, and when we actually 
wait upon God, and rely on him as our only hope. It 
is then that the believer finds the promises confirmed 
to him ; " Whom the Lord loveth he chasteneth, and 
scourgeth every son whom he receiveth." "No chasten- 
ing for the present is joyous, but grievous," &c. Then 
he rolls his burden on the Lord, commits his way to 
Him, leans upon Him, trusts in Him with all his heart, 
so that with a meaning altogether new, he can sing with 
the church : » God is our refuge and strength, a very 
present help in trouble, therefore will we not fear, 
though the earth be removed, and though the mountains 
be carried into the midst of the sea." 



Uses op Chastisement. 49 

Some appear to entertain the mistaken opinion that 
the only relief which is afforded to the Christian in 
suffering, must arise from some hope of speedy deliver- 
ance or escape. This is so far from being true, that 
perhaps the greatest solace under afflictions is derived 
from direct acts of faith upon the Lord Jesus Christ, 
and communion with Him ; in which the soul is so much 
absorbed that the present suffering is forgotten, and the 
mind wholly occupied in its exercises of piety. And 
herein the chastisement is profitable. In pain, and 
despondency, and grief, we go to Jesus as to a friend 
that sticketh closer than a brother : Ave pour our sorrows 
into his friendly ear, and ask his aid, and then, when 
he reveals to us his love, and speaks his promises, and 
unveils his face, even though he give no assurance that 
we shall be set free, he does more, — he gives us Him- 
self, and faith is refreshed and nourished by receiving 
him. And shall we not regard as a mercy, that sick- 
ness, or that bereavement, or that alarm, which so em- 
bitters the world's cup, as to lead us to Christ, that we 
may see his beauty, and be filled with his love? 

Prosperity leaves us to wander, and offers tempta- 
tions to wandering. Afflictions alarm us, and drive us 
buck to the right path. Prosperity casts a glittering 
but delusive veil over divine realities, and encourages 

unbelief. Afflictions rend and destroy this covering, 
and show us the truths of another world. Prosperity 
seldom leads to increase of faith. A miction, by God's 

7 



50 Affliction. 

blessing, is, in many cases, made the instrument of 
sanctification to such as are truly pious. 

Dear brethren, that God who « doth not afflict will- 
ingly, nor grieve the children of men," offers you in 
your trials these " peaceable fruits of righteousness." 
Taste of the sweetness of his promises, and each of you 
shall say with David : "It is good for me that I have 
been afflicted." 

5. Chastisement is useful, because it leads the be- 
liever to exercise entire submission to the Divine will. 

It is an undeniable truth, and one of which the child 
of God is very deeply convinced, that "the Lord 
reigneth ;" that it is infinitely right and fit that he 
should reign ; and that the first duty of every intelli- 
gent being, is to submit promptly, cheerfully, and un- 
reservedly to every ordinance and dispensation of God. 
It is not very difficult to keep the soul in correspond- 
ence with this truth, so long as our self-love is not 
interfered with, nor our present happiness invaded ; but 
when the sovereignty of God is manifested in despoiling 
us of our most precious possessions and delights, our 
souls are often ready to falter, and our weakness be- 
trays itself when, with hesitating lips, we endeavour to 
say, " Shall not the Judge of all the earth do right ?" 
It is common to hear those who are ignorant of the 
Scriptures cavilling at the representation of Job as a 
man of eminent patience; but where, except in his 
biography, shall we look for the instance of a man, 
suffering in one day the total loss of immense wealth, 



Uses of Chastisement. 51 

and of ten beloved children, and still saying, << The 
Lord gave, and the Lord hath taken away, blessed be 
the name of the Lord." 

Without exercise, Christian graces do not grow, and 
severe afflictions are probably intended to cultivate this 
important grace of entire submission. Nothing is more 
common than for persons, under chastisement, to in- 
dulge in such thoughts as these, " I could endure almost 
any affliction better than this ; it is that which I have 
most dreaded, for which I was least prepared, and now 
it has overtaken me ! It is so strange, new, and un- 
exampled, that I am unmanned, and my soul sinks 
within me." These are the symptoms of a rebellious 
and unsubdued will ; the murmurings of a proud and 
stubborn heart, which must be humbled in the dust. 
This is just the trial by which, perhaps, God graciously 
intends to bring down the imaginations and high thoughts 
of your soul into captivity to the obedience of Christ. 
And patience will not have had its perfect work in any 
case, until the afflicted soul is prepared to make no 
reservation, to claim no direction, but to give up all 
into the hands of the most wise, most righteous, and 
most merciful Creator. If the suffering were less, it 
would not have this humbling efficacy, and he mistakes 
tli" nature of the covenant, who supposes that such pe- 
culiar trials are excluded. It was, no doubt, a visita- 
tion Budden and alarming as a stroke of lightning, when 
Aaron beheld bis sons consumed by fire from the Lord. 
It was an awful sanction to thai rule, "1 will be sane- 



52 Affliction. 

tified in them that come nigh me, and before all the 
people I will be glorified." Yet, on seeing and hearing 
these things, the bereaved father "held his peace." 
Lev. x. 3. It is a bitter medicine, but the soul which 
is convinced of God's justice and goodness, lays down 
every thought of rebellion and discontent. 

This is the temper which sanctified affliction always 
begets, so that the prostrate soul dares no longer to im- 
pose terms on Jehovah, but yields itself to his sovereign 
discretion. There is peace in such a surrender, a peace 
which is altogether independent of any expected miti- 
gation of the stroke. 

Wave after wave often goes over the child of God, 
before he is brought to this state of self-renunciation. 
Murmuring may for a time prevail, yet the Great Phy- 
sician, who applies the painful remedy, cannot be baffled, 
and triumphs to his own glory, and the unspeakable 
benefit of the believer's soul. 

"Humble yourselves, therefore, under the mighty 
hand of God, that he may exalt you in due time," yet, 
if his rod should long abide upon you, if you are ready, 
like Job, to cry, from repeated and continued strokes, 
" He hath set me up for his mark. He breaketh me 
with breach upon breach. He hath fenced up my way 
so that I cannot pass, and he hath set darkness in my 
paths," yet even then, "remember the patience of Job, 
and the end of the Lord," and say, "Though he slay 
me, yet will I trust in him." 

Some may be disposed to think, in the time when all 



Uses of Chastisement. 53 

God's waves and billows go over them, that they could 
acquiesce and be comforted, if they perceived any way 
of escape, if they could reasonably expect deliverance ; 
and this is the whole of what is sometimes called Christ- 
ian resignation. Yet, the comfort in this case is merely 
worldly. The grace of God can do more than this ; it 
can make you willing still to endure, and in enduring, 
still to praise. 

Say not, « I could be content if I were sure of deli- 
verance." God has not promised absolutely to remove 
the chastisement. Perhaps it is his holy will not to de- 
liver. Perhaps it is this very thing in your afflictions 
which is to insure you the blessing from the Lord. The 
apostle Paul earnestly desired, and thrice besought the 
Lord to deliver him from that trial which he calls the 
thorn in his flesh, the messenger of Satan to buffet him. 
Yet, as far as we are informed, it was continued to the 
end of his life. But mark the glorious indemnification : 
"My grace is sufficient for thee, for my strength is 
made perfect in weakness." Upon this declaration, the 
apostle calmly, nay joyfully, goes forward under his 
burden, singing as he pursues his pilgrimage : " Most 
gladly, therefore, will I rather glory in my infirmities, 
that the power of Christ may rest upon me ; therefore 
I take pleasure in infirmities, in reproaches, in necessi- 
ties, in persecutions, in distresses, for Christ's sake, for 
when I urn weak, then am I strong." The sweet sup- 
port under every possible calamity is, that God can turn 



54 Affliction. 

so. With respect, therefore, to the use of afflictions, 
"all things are possible to him that believeth." 

6. Finally. Chastisement is useful, because it leads 
the believer to look for complete happiness in heaven 
only. 

And at this stage of our reflections, let us rejoice, 
dear brethren, that the consolation offered is liable to 
no exception or abatement : it is adapted to every case ; 
perfect and entire. If the comfort which you need de- 
pended upon the hopes of deliverance in this world, there 
would be many cases -which we should be forced to leave 
as hopeless : for there are many in which no expectation 
of exemption in this life can be indulged. But let the 
worst, most lingering, and most aggravated instance of 
suffering be presented, and the hope of heaven is still 
sufficient to mitigate its ills. You may have been re- 
duced to hopeless poverty ; you may have suffered from 
the treachery and ingratitude of supposed friends ; from 
cruel mockings and persevering calumny ; you may 
labour under incurable disease, or follow to the grave 
beloved objects of your affections, who can never be re- 
placed in this world. Still there is a country, and you 
are rapidly approaching it, "where the wicked cease 
from troubling, and the weary are at rest." It is well 
if you have learned to look beyond all secondary, 
earthly, imperfect comforts, to God, the source of good, 
and to that world where all tears are wiped away. It 
is well if the trial of your faith has enabled you to say, 



Uses of Chastisement. 55 

to keep that which I have committed to him against 
that day." 

This is a benefit of affliction, which is striking and 
great in proportion to the failure of earthly consolation. 
For it may be doubted whether any man fully yields 
himself up to the view and prelibation of heaven, until 
he is disentangled and rent away from all hope of bless- 
edness on this side of the grave. It is natural to seek 
resting-places by the way ; and trials, losses, sufferings, 
bereavements, are thrice blessed when they engrave 
upon our hearts that we have here no continuing city, 
but must seek one above. So long as we can flatter 
ourselves with any refuge in this world, we are prone 
to lean on an arm of flesh, and to look upwards only 
for the supply of what is deficient here. But let all ex- 
pectation of worldly peace and satisfaction be cut off, 
and the released soul, which is truly sanctified and full 
of faith, rises, like a bird from the snare, and rejoices 
to say, " My soul, wait thou only upon God, for my ex- 
pectation is from him. Then shall I be satisfied when 
I awake in thy likeness !" Think not, however, to en- 
joy this fruit of chastisement, while you cast long and 
lingering looks on that country whence you came out. 
Nothing but the hope of a glorious resurrection upheld 
the apostle Paul, when troubled on every side, per- 
plexed, persecuted, cast down, and (as to the outward 
man) perishing. Hear the method of his escape out of 
Borrow, "Our light affliction, which is but for a mo- 



56 Affliction. 

merit, worketh for us a far more exceeding and eternal 
weight of glory." 

He is tlie happy man who dwells most on the thoughts 
of heaven. Like Enoch, he walks with God. Like Job, 
he can say, "I know that my Redeemer liveth," &c. 
Like David, he glories, " Thou wilt show me thy salva- 
tion." Like Paul, he triumphs, "for I am now ready 
to be offered," &c. 

This happiness we sometimes witness ; but where 
have we found it ? In the house of prosperity, where 
death has never invaded the family circle ; where all 
have more than heart could Avish ; where health, and 
opulence, and honour unite to expel all care ? No ! but 
in the hovel of the poor, where one affliction hath fol- 
lowed another, till earthly hope is almost extinct. In 
the darkened chamber of mourning, whence all that was 
most loved and cherished has taken its last flight. In 
the bed of lingering, incurable disease, and in the very 
gasp of death ! Here religion hath set up her trophies ; 
here is happiness, here, where things hoped for are sub- 
stantiated to the believing soul, where things unseen 
are evidenced to faith by divine influence. 

In every case of suffering it is the prime wisdom of 
the Christian to fix his eyes upon the heavenly crown. 
In every other hope you may be disappointed, in this 
you cannot. Try, as you may, all other fountains for 
your solace, there is a time coming when you must be 
driven to this. Become familiar with the meditation of 
heavenly glory ! Daily contemplate that joyful deliver- 



Uses of Chastisement. 57 

ance from evil, that indissoluble and ecstatic union with 

the Lord Jesus Christ ! Then, when death lays upon 

you his cold hand, you can say, « I am prepared for 

this hour. I have longed for this deliverance to meet 

my Lord in his temple. I have lived in communion 

with the blessed Lord of heaven." « Lo, this is my 

God, I have waited for him, and he will save me, this 

is the Lord, I have waited for him ; I will rejoice and 

be glad in his salvation." 

Alexander. 



58 Affliction. 



Scriptural Selections. 

For he doth not afflict willingly, nor grieve the children of men. 

Wherefore doth a living man complain, a man for the punishment of 
his sins? — Lam. ill. 33, 39. 

Surely it is meet to be said unto God, I have borne chastisement, I 
will not offend any more : — ■ 

That which I see not, teach thou me : if I have done iniquity, I will 
do no more. — Job, xxxiv. 31, 32. 

Howbeit, thou art just in all that is brought upon us ; for thou hast 
done right, but we have done wickedly. — Xeh. ix. 33. 

Before I was afflicted I went astray: but now have I kept thy word. 

It is good for me that I have been afflicted ; that I might learn thy 
statutes. — Ps. cxix. G7, 71. 

By this therefore shall the iniquity of Jacob be purged. — Is. xxvii. 9. 

And I will turn my hand upon thee, and purely purge away thy 
dross, and take away all thy tin. — Is. i. 25. 



Uses or Chastisement. 59 



Christ the Purifier. 

" He shaU sit as a refiner, and purifier of sUvcr."— Mal. hi. 3. 

He that from dross would win the precious ore, 

Bends o'er the crucible an earnest eye, 
The subtle searching process to explore, 

Lest the one brilliant moment should pass by, 
When in the molten silver's virgin mass 
He meets his pictured face as in a glass. 

Thus in God's furnace are his people tried ; 

Thrice happy they who to the end endure : 
But who the fiery trial may abide ? 

Who from the crucible come forth so pure ? 
That He whose eyes of flame look through the whole, 
May see his image perfect in the soul ? 

Nor with an evanescent glimpse alone, 

As in that mirror the refiner's face ; 
But, stampt with heaven's broad signet, there be shown 

Immanuel's features full of truth and grace. 
A 11. 1 round that seal of love this motto be, 
•'Not for a moment, but — eternity!" 



III. 



The Stones of the Heavenly Temple 
prepared on earth. 

" And the Jwusc, when it was in building, was built of etone made rccuhj before it was brought thither : 
so that there was neither hammer, nor cue, nor any tool of iron, heard in, the Itouse while it was in 
building.''— 1 Kings, vi. 7. 

THE Temple of Solomon was the noblest structure 
ever built by human hands. 
In the Architect who devised it, in the materials em- 
ployed, in the labour bestowed, in the costliness of the 
work, and in the grandeur of its whole design, it sur- 
passed the proudest edifices of the world. From its 
first erection in the wilderness until the time of Solo- 
mon, over four centuries, the « Tabernacle," containing 
the ark of the covenant and its sacred treasures, was 
but a movable tent pitched where peace or convenience 
would permit. When David selected Jerusalem to be 
his royal city, and » the Lord had given him rest round 
about from all his enemies," he said to the prophet 
Nathan, « Lo, I dwell in an house of cedars, but the 
ark of the covenant of the Lord rcmaineth under cur 
tains," thus expressing his uneasiness that he should be 
more sumptuously lodged than the ark of God, and inti- 

(60) 



The Heavenly Temple. 61 

mating his desire to build an house of the Lord. This 
very proper desire the Lord would not suffer him to exe- 
cute, because he had been a warrior, and his hand had 
been stained with human blood ; but He announced to him 
through the prophet that his son should build an house 
to Him, and thus accomplish what he had so piously 
designed. Though divinely hindered from building the 
house, he yet busied himself in collecting materials 
for it of the most ample and costly character, and four 
years after his decease, Solomon, who reigned in his 
stead, began the work of erecting the Temple which his 
father David had planned in all its parts by the Spirit 
of God. Seven years were consumed by an immense 
army of labourers in this gigantic work, ere the Temple 
crowned the summit of Mount Moriah, and was dedicated 
to the worship of the one living and true God. There 
it stood for many years, the pride of Israel and the 
glory of the world. Grand in the massiveness of its 
structure — magnificent in the arrangement of its courts 
and porches, and gates, and holy, most holy places — 
splendid in the glittering radiance which its walls of 
dazzling whiteness flashed upon the beholder as the 
morning or evening sun was reflected from it, " glister- 
ing stones," glorious as a Temple erected for the wor- 
ship of Almighty God, but pre-eminently honoured as 
the place where the Most High condescended to dwell 
between the Cherubim in the Holy of Holies by a visi- 
ble emblem, and where he communed witli his anointed 
servant from off the mercy scat of the ark of the cove- 



62 Affliction. 

nant. In every aspect, human and divine, it was the 
most remarkable building ever erected on earth — re- 
markable in its human aspects — in its foundations — 
its materials — its structure — its costliness — its splen- 
dour ; and in its divine, as the only house of wood and 
stone in which Jehovah resided by the symbol of 
His presence. Leaving, however, the many interest- 
ing points suggested by this stupendous work, let us 
bend our thoughts upon the remarkable fact spoken of 
by the sacred historian in the 1st Book of Kings, 6th 
chapter and 14th verse : " And the house, when it was 
in building, was built of stone made ready before it was 
brought thither : so that there was neither hammer, nor 
axe, nor any tool of iron, heard in the house while it was 
in building." It is difficult to understand how a work so 
vast and so complicated could be erected in such a silent 
manner. And this fact will appear the more remarkable 
if we consider the nature and dimensions of materials 
used. The heavy work was all of stone or marble, and 
some of the great and costly stones spoken of in the Book 
of Kings were blocks eighty feet long, ten high, and 
twelve wide, and many of its pillars were socketed in 
solid masonry. Its massive rafters were tenoned and 
mortised into corresponding beams ; yet these ponderous 
masses were hewn, squared, carved and fitted to their 
places before they were brought to Mount Moriah, with 
such nicety and skill, that Josephus says that " the 
smallest interstices were not perceptible between the 
stones," and yet no hammer, axe, or any tool of iron 



The Heavenly Temple. 63 

was needed to adjust them to their several places, and 
frame them together in grand yet harmonious propor- 
tions. How all this could be accomplished in so unusual 
a manner can only be accounted for by supposing that 
God presided over his own Temple, and gave the builders 
this unusual art and skill. 

This gorgeous Temple was destroyed by Nebuchad- 
nezzar nearly twenty-five hundred years ago. Another 
and another temple has risen on the same spot and met 
the same fate ; the Lord of the Temple himself has come 
into his earthly court, not by the emblematic Shekinah, 
but in bodily form, and has gone back to his original 
glory ; the nation which worshipped in those sanctua- 
ries has been scattered to the four winds of heaven ; 
yet the deep instruction furnished by this passage re- 
mains : and let us, through God's assistance, attempt 
to search out and apply the lesson. 

In the New Testament the Church is termed " God's 
building" — "the temple of God" — "the temple of the 
II<»ly Ghost" — "the temple of the living God" — "an 
holy temple of the Lord" — " an habitation of God in the 
Spirit" — "the house of Christ." These terms denote 
that ;is God by the bright symbol of his glory mani- 
fested lii~ presence in the movable tabernacle erected by 
Moses, and the stately temple built by Solomon, s<, does 

iii< spiril dwell in the hearts of Christians as indi- 
vidual-; and in the church collectively. Tn looking then 

at tlii- < 'liiMian temple, let u< observe, first, the -times 

of which it i< composed; secondly, the preparation of 



04 Affliction. 

tliem ; and thirdly, their destination. St. Peter says 
of Christians, that as lively stones they are built up a 
spiritual house. A stone is a shapeless mass of rock. 
It is inert — lifeless — could never split itself from its 
native quarry — could never fashion itself into classic 
shape and beauty, and could never set itself up as a 
lintel or column in any edifice of man. And such by 
nature is the spiritual state of all men — having no 
power to move — hear — see — feel — believe, because of 
the moral inertia which makes them as passive, hard, 
insensible as the stones of the earth. Hence, when God 
would express the hardened condition of a person or 
people, he speaks of such as having " hearts of stone." 
But believers having been hewn out from the quarry 
of humanity by the electing grace of God, are termed 
living stones ; not inert, masses of rock, not senseless 
blocks of marble, but full of life, feeling, action ; and 
they are thus designated because Christ, as the tried 
corner stone, the sure foundation, is called a living 
stone, and diffuses his own life through all parts of the 
spiritual temple which rests on him. So that every 
stone in it, from the foundation of the apostles and 
prophets to the topmost coping, is made a precious, a 
glistering, a living stone, through the preciousness and 
glory and life of Jesus, the prince of life. So long 
then as the soul of the believer rests on Jesus Christ 
alone for salvation, and on nothing else, it has spiritual 
life — build it upon any other foundation and it is a 
senseless stone still — only as laid by the Holy Ghost 



The Heavenly Temple. 65 

upon the foundation of the prophets and apostles, 
Jesus Christ being the chief corner stone, can it receive 
in itself the life of Christ, and become through the ini-^ 
partation of his own vitality a living stone. 

The way in which these living stones are prepared 
for the temple, furnishes a subject of interesting and 
profitable thought. The wood and stone used in Ser- 
mon's Temple were carefully prepared at a distance from 
the place where the edifice was to be built. The 
sacred house Avas planned out in minutest detail by 
David, under the direction of the Spirit of God. Each 
stone, column, lintel, architrave, capital, beam, rafter, 
had its special and appointed place, but as yet the 
wood was waving its branches in the forests of Lebanon, 
and the stone was unquarried in the mountains of Judea. 
Under the direction of appointed overseers, the Hebrew 
workman went up to the sides of Lebanon and cut down 
the designated tree, and there, before carrying it to Je- 
rusalem, he trimmed and fashioned it by much hewing 
and carving for its destined place. The Phoenician 
stonecutter went to the mountain and split out masses 
of rock from the quarry, and there, by many ponderous 
blows, he dressed it and shaped it for its appointed posi- 
tion. Many an axe and sharp-edged tool passed over 
thai tree before it became a stately pillar, and many 

a hammer and instrument of iron Avas used on that once 
unsightly block ere as a polished stone it was fitted for 
the Temple's wall. Mosl beautifully -Iocs all this illus- 
trate the way of <;,,<! j u building up His spiritual and 



66 Affliction. 

living temple. In the mind of Him who seeth the end 
from the beginning, and who has devised all things in the 
counsel of his own will, this temple is already planned 
in its minutest part — He knows each living stone that 
shall compose its walls — He has designated them for 
their several places before the foundation of the world, 
though as yet many of them are still swaying their 
green branches in the forests of worldliness, or lie buried 
in the stony ledges of hardened impenitence. But the 
Great Architect knows what tree and what rock he 
wants, and he lays the axe of converting grace at the 
root of this tree, and speaking by his spirit to the in- 
sensate stone, his word becomes, in his own expressive 
language, as a fire, and like a hammer that breaketh 
the rock in pieces. But when the tree is thus felled, 
when the stone is thus quarried out, is it immediately 
fitted for its destined place in heaven ? In most cases 
we answer, no. Though at conversion the child of God 
is a marked man, though he is justified freely by the 
grace that is in Christ Jesus, yet how much spiritual 
trimming and dressing, how much hewing and squaring 
does he need to fashion him aright for the position which 
the Divine Architect intends he shall occupy hereafter ! 
There are sharp angles of character to be rounded off — 
unsightly protuberances of conduct to be chipped away 
— many roughnesses of temper to be smoothed down, 
many flaws and cracks of mind and heart to be chiselled 
out ; and then, when the general form of the stone is 
prepared, how much severe friction is required to give 



The Heavenly Temple. 67 

it the right polish, and bring out all its beauties, so that 
its smooth surface may fling back the rays of the Sun 
of Righteousness ! 

Our earth is the place where this is to be done ; for, 
as there was no noise of any axe or hammer, or tool of 
iron heard on Mount Moriah while the Temple was build- 
ing, so in the New Jerusalem above there will be heard 
no crushing strokes of conviction, no sharp hewings of 
an awakened conscience, no sound of preparatory disci- 
pline. Heaven is not the place to prepare men for 
glory — but to receive them when prepared. Earth, 
then, is the preparing place for heaven, and the prepara- 
tion is effected by the axe, the hammer, and the tools 
of iron of God's wise dispensations. All God's dealings 
with us have respect to our future existence ; and these 
are so wisely adapted to the peculiarities of each case 
that no two persons pass through the same course, and 
no two result in the same development. We are not 
arbitrarily classed together like the Linnaean system of 
plants under certain genera and species, and then each 
group made to experience the same indiscriminate treat- 
ment. Far from it : each individual in the whole train- 
ing of his moral nature is as much under the eye and 
care "f God as if there was no other being in the uni- 
; and there is not a peculiarity of mind or heart or 
body — not ;i changing phase of life from the cradle to 
tin- coffin — that is not expressly me1 by infinite wisdom 
in the arrangement <>l'lii< Providence and Grace. Nor 
doee be Bel in motion n course of preparation suited to 



68 Affliction. 

your case, and then, leaving it like a piece of machinery 
to do its allotted work, go off to some other part of his 
wide domain to superintend some other of his vast de- 
signs. No. For as the refiner of silver never re- 
moves his eye from the molten mass in the crucible of 
his furnace until he sees his own image reflected in the 
purged and shining metal, so God never leaves the in- 
dividual soul which he has placed in the furnace fires of 
this world, until he either sees his own image reflected 
in the purified spirit, or proves it to be but sinful dross. 
The greater part of the preparation to which we are 
subjected as professing Christians, is of a disciplinary 
character, and hence is fitly represented by the axe, the 
hammer, and the tool of iron. Prosperity not only is 
the destruction of fools, but in the great majority of 
cases hardens the heart of the nominal Christian, so 
that Christ himself was forced to say " how hardly shall 
they that have riches enter into the kingdom of heaven," 
and for many hundreds of years God by the voice of 
Jeremiah has complained, " I spake unto thee in thy 
prosperity; but thou saidst I will not hear. This hath 
been thy manner from thy youth, that thou obeyedst 
not my voice." Afflictions come more immediately 
to the heart, and operate with a more searching and 
purifying influence upon the life. These show one 
his weakness and sinfulness — lay open the moral ana- 
tomy of his nature — subject to severest test his prin- 
ciples of action, and cause him to retire into the 
chambers of his soul and learn there in the liirlit 



The Heavenly Temple. 69 

of the Bible and in the light of conscience, his rela- 
tions and duties to God and man. Now the axe seems 
driven into the root of his happiness — now he is broken 
as a block of granite under the blows of the hammer of 
God's Word, and now the iron of a sore adversity has 
entered into his soul, and he feels himself stricken, smit- 
ten, and afflicted. In these dispensations, however se- 
vere, he is being fitted by the hand of God himself for a 
place in glory. God knows for what position in that 
heavenly temple he has designed us, and he knows when 
we are prepared for that position ; nor will he permit us 
to receive a single blow or cut more than is necessary to 
accomplish his divine purpose concerning us. Let the 
Christian, then, who is passing through trials and afflic- 
tions fiery and discouraging, remember that God is thus 
hewing and squaring him here, that as a well prepared 
and lively stone he may by and by be built up into the 
living temple not ma.de with hands, eternal in the 
heavens. The preparing process may be severe ; the 
strokes frequent and heavy ; the hewing into shape 
painful to the flesh ; the polishing into beauty rasping 
i'. the spirit : yet every blow aids to bring it into form ; 
'■\itv tool of iron, though it cuts deep, leaves behind 
BOme chiselled beauty; and every grating file of sorrow 
thai rasps the sensitive fibres of the heart, only gives it 
:i higher polish, and makes it reflect a brighter glory. 
And who will complain of such dealings, when such 
blissful < i i'l ~ are attained by it ? Who will murmur at 
the roughness of a road that loads to such eternal joys? 






70 Affliction. 

who will repine at any chastenings, and not rather 
esteem them as light afflictions which are but for a mo- 
ment, when his Heavenly Father assures him that they 
shall work out for him a far more exceeding and eternal 
weight of glory ? And Oh, let the afflicted saint re- 
member also that as those portions of the earthly Temple 
which were to be most conspicuous and beautiful, had 
more cutting and carving and polishing than others, so 
those whom God designs for eminence in glory, for 
pillars in his temple, are subjected to heavier blows, 
deeper chiselings, severer raspings in the process of 
bringing out in them higher beauties and a more excell- 
ing glory. 

And this leads us to consider, lastly, the end for 
which these living stones, thus prepared on earth, are 
designed. We have seen that the stones quarried out 
and elaborately hewn by the Sidonians, were taken after 
due preparation to Jerusalem and set up in the Temple. 
As the house erected for God by Solomon was the most 
magnificent of all earthly structures, and was designed 
to show forth the praise of God, and be his earthly 
abode ; so when he would speak of the glory of Heaven, 
where he dwells in full and visible presence, where he 
is worshipped in pure and perfect devotion, where he 
receives his people into close and holy communion, and 
where he manifests the unveiled perfections of the God- 
head ; he speaks of it under the figure of a temple— a 
h 0US e_a building: of a temple, because he is wor- 
shipped there; of a house, because he entertains his 



The Heavenly Temple. 71 

children there in its many mansions or apartments ; of 
a building, because it has been slowly augmented since 
the foundation of the world. 

The real end, then, for which God hath chosen us in 
Christ Jesus before the world began, and fitted us on 
earth by his providential dispensations, is, " that in the 
dispensation of the fullness of time he might gather to- 
gether in one, all things in Christ, both which are in 
heaven and which are on earth, even in Him." And 
this recapitulation of all things in Christ is to be 
eifected by building all things on Christ as the sure 
foundation which God himself has laid in Zion ; and 
Christians, as living stones chosen of God and precious, 
are, in the language of St. Paul, built upon the founda- 
tion of the apostles, " In whom all the building fitly 
framed together, groweth unto an holy temple in the 
Lord. In whom ye also are builded together for an 
habitation of God through the Spirit." This struc- 
ture the same apostle designates in another place as 
" a building of God, a house not made with hands, 
eternal in the heavens." And now if we will with the 
eye of St. John gaze into the opening heaven, we shall 
with him behold no temple there. Why? because, says 
this beloved disciple, "the Lord God Almighty and the 
Lamb are the temple thereof." Ah yes ! Christ, in whom 
nil things are gathered together — on whom as a corner 
stone all living stones are built — in whom dwelleth all 
the fullness of the Godhead bodily, is the temple of 
d ! and because we are Christ's, and Christ is 



72 Affliction. 

God, we also, by being, in the words of St. Paul, " par- 
takers of the divine nature," become a holy temple of 
the Lord, having for its walls salvation, and for its gates 
praise. 

This spiritual temple God is now building up, and 
it progresses just as fast as the living stones are pre- 
pared to take their places above. The first living stone 
ever built upon this precious corner stone was righteous 
Abel, and since then Enoch, and Noah, and Abraham, 
and Moses, and David, and Daniel, and multitudes of 
others having been hewn and squared here, have been 
fitted into their places in this living temple. But since 
Christ came, how gloriously has it increased ! Apostles, 
and martyrs, and confessors, and saints ; bishops, and 
priests, and deacons, and laity ; the aged, the middle 
aged, the young and the infant ; the rich, the learned, 
the poor and the ignorant ; kings, and captains, and 
statesman, and scholars, have been added layer upon 
layer ; sometimes, when persecution has raged, a thou- 
sand stones a day ; and sometimes long years have 
passed, and scarce a living stone has been transferred to 
heaven. And this building process is going on every 
day, in our midst, under our own eyes. The prattling 
infant, the loving child, the youth of promise, the doat- 
ing mother, the cherished wife, the fond husband, the 
revered parent, the loved sister, the manly brother, all 
have been taken from our midst, and while house- 
hold after household have put on mourning and uttered 
piercing cries of anguish as the beloved but stricken one 



The Heavenly Temple. 73 

has been taken away ; angels have shouted for joy 
that another lively stone has been set up in the heavens, 
to abide for ever in glory. And "who of those who hope 
that we are lively stones, who are now passing through 
the trials and afflictions of our needed preparation ; 
who of us will next be taken — in what family will God 
select the next lively stone that shall be borne from 
this earthly to that heavenly temple ? Or if God 
keep you longer on earth, and cause you to suffer trials 
and afflictions of mind and body, and home and friends, 
and business and fortune, can you, will you repine 
when you know why he keeps you here, and what these 
tribulations are designed to accomplish in you ? Keep 
before your souls God's ultimate purpose, and it will 
make you always to rejoice in God's present dealings. 
Look frequently at the glorious end, and you will mur- 
mur less at the sorrows of the way, and remember that 
the moment that you are fitted in the eye of the Great 
Architect to take your place as a living stone above, he 
will place you there, whether with the preliminary call 
of sickness or the sudden summons, " Come up hither," 
and when up thither all the preparation and disciplines 
of earth are over, and as the Saints look back to the 
quarry whence they were hewn, and compare their rough 
and 1 1 1 1 ~ ] i : i J . . • 1 1 appearance then with their present grace 
and beauty, will theynol bless God who did oo1 leave 
them in the stony ledge of impenitence, or lying as 
unseemly blocks at the quarry's mouth; bul who 
caused to pass over them the axe and the hammer, and 



74 Affliction. 

the tool of iron of Lis afflictive dispensation, and thus 
made them lively, stones fitted to abide in eternal beauty 
in the New Jerusalem above ? 

But this exceeding glory will be ours only as we be- 
come living stones, by being united to Jesus Christ the 
corner stone by a living faith. Have we this faith? 
do we cling to Christ alone ? have we hid our lives in 
him by a self-consecration that will never recall its cove- 
nant vows ? Do we walk by faith, and does this faith 
purify the heart, enabling us to resist the devil, over- 
come the world, and rejoice in hope of the glory of God ? 

Have we evidences that we are now, as the apostle says, 
" temples of the Holy Ghost ?" Are our souls under 
the constant, controlling, sanctifying, influences of this 
blessed spirit ? For if we are not temples of the Holy 
Ghost on earth, we can never become "living stones" 
in the temple of heaven. Does Christ dwell in our 
hearts by faith, and do we feel the presence and the 
preciousness of such an indwelling Saviour? If we 
do, then have we daily evidence that Ave are of his 
chosen ones, and that ere long, after a few more strokes 
from the axe and the hammer, he will raise us to 
glory ; but if not, oh wait not another day, but, while 
the Spirit of God even now strives with your soul, em- 
brace the offers of his abounding grace, that you also 
may so look for, and long for his appearing, as to be 
constrained to say with the enraptured spirit of the 
banished apostle : " Amen. Even so, come quickly, 

Lord Jesus !" 

Stevens. 



The Heavenly Temple. 



Scriptural Selections. 

For "whom the Lord loveth he chasteneth, and scourgeth every son 
whom he receiveth. 

If ye endure chastening, God dealeth with you as with sons : for 
what son is he whom the father chasteneth not ? 

But if ye be without chastisement, whereof all are partakers, then 
are ye bastards, and not sons. 

Furthermore, we have had fathers of our flesh which corrected us, 
and we gave them reverence : shall we not much rather be in subjec- 
tion unto the Father of spirits, and live ? 

For they verily for a few days chastened us after their own plea- 
sure ; but he for our profit, that we might be partakers of his holiness. 

Now no chastening for the present seemeth to be joyous, but griev- 
ous : nevertheless, afterward it yieldeth the peaceable fruit of righte- 
ousness unto them which are exercised thereby. — Heb. xii. G — 11. 

AVe are troubled on every side, yet not distressed ; we are perplexed, 
but not in despair ; 

Persecuted, but not forsaken ; cast down, but not destroyed ; 

Always bearing about in the body the dying of the Lord Jesus, that 
the life also of Jesus might be made manifest in our body. — 2 Cor. iv. 
8—10. 

For which cause we faint not; but though our outward man perish, 
yet the inward man is renewed day by day. 

Poi our light affliction, which is but for a moment, workcth for us 
B far more exceeding and eternal weight of glory ; 

While we look not at the things which are seen, but at the tilings 
which arc not seen: for the things which arc seen arc temporal; but 
the things which are not seen are eternal. — 2 Cor. iv. 1G — 18. 



76 Affliction. 



The New Jerusalem. 

And I saw the Holy City. /. < ' i • •>'■ /■;, corning rfoicn from God out of heaven, prepared 
Bride adorned for her husband." 

The Holy Jerusalem 

From highest heaven descending, 
And crowned -with a diadem 

Of Angel bands attending, 
The Living City built on high, 
Bright with celestial jewelry ! 

She comes, the Bride, from heaven gate, 

In nuptial new Adorning, 
To meet the Immaculate, 

Like coming of the morning. 
Her streets of purest gold are made, 
Her walls a diamond palisade. 

There with pearls the gates are dight 

Upon that Holy Mountain ; 
And thither come both day and night, 

AVho in the Living Fountain 
Have washed their robes from earthly stain, 
And borne below Christ's lowly chain. 

By the hand of the Unknown 

The Living Stones are moulded 
To a glorious Shrine, all one, 

Full soon to be unfolded ; 
The building wherein God doth dwell, 
The Holy Church Invisible. 



IV. 
Jesus Veiling his Dealings. 

" Jetui answered and said unto Mm, What I do thou hnowest not now ; but thou shall know here- 
after."— John, xm. 7. 

OUR Lord, when he spake these words, had just risen 
from the lowliest act of his most lowly life. Around 
that act there was thrown a veil of mystery which par- 
tially concealed its purport and its end from the view 
of his wondering disciple. There was much in this 
simple but expressive incident of the Saviour's life 
which filled his mind with perplexing thought. His 
first feeling was that of resistance, to be succeeded by 
one of astonishment, still deeper. He had marked each 
step in the strange proceeding — the loosened sandal, 
the bathing of the feet, the replacing of the robe ; but 
tin' deep significance of the whole was fro his view 
wrapped in impenetrable mystery. And how did the 
Baviour meet his perplexity? Not by denying its 
mysteriousness, but by a promise of clearer light anon. 
"Jesus answered and said unto him, What I do thou 
b not now; but thou shalt know hereafter." And 
this explanation and assurance satisfied the mind of the 
amazed disciple. ''Simon Peter saith unto him, Lord, 
ii"t inv feel only, but also my hands and my head." 

(77) 



78 Affliction. 

Each individual believer lias a personal interest in 
this subject, especially those to whom these pages are 
inscribed, — the Father's chastened ones. These words 
imply a concealment of much of the Lord's procedure 
with his people. It is our wisdom to know that no 
pure, unmixed sorrow, ever befalls the Christian sufferer. 
Our Lord Jesus flung the curse and the sin to such an 
infinite distance from the church, that could his faith 
but discern it, the believer would see nothing but love 
painting the darkest cloud that ever threw its shadow 
upon his spirit. Akin to the preceding subject is the 
one upon which we now propose briefly to address the 
suffering reader. It speaks of a veiling of Christ's deal- 
ings, with the promise of an unveiling in a day far 
sunnier and happier than this. "What I do thou 
knowest not now; but thou shalt know hereafter." 

With regard to our heavenly Father, there can be 
nothing mysterious, nothing inscrutable to him. A 
profound and awful mystery himself, yet to his infinite 
mind there can be no darkness, no mystery at all. His 
whole plan — if plan it may be called — is before him. 
Our phraseology, when speaking of the divine proce- 
dure, would sometimes imply the opposite of this. We 
talk of God's foreknowledge, of his foresight, of his 
acquaintance with events yet unborn ; but there is in 
truth no such thing. There are no tenses with God — 
no past — nor present — nor to come. The idea of God's 
Eternity, if perfectly grasped, would annihilate in our 
minds all such humanizing of the Divine Being. He is 



Jesus Veiling his Dealings. 79 

one — Eternal Now. All events to the remotest period 
of time, were as vivid and as present to the divine mind 
from eternity, as when at the moment thej assumed a 
real existence and a palpable form. 

But all the mystery is with us, poor finite creatures 
of a day. And why, even to us, is any portion of 
the divine conduct thus a mystery ? Not because 
it is in itself so, but mainly and simply because 
Ave cannot see the whole as God sees it. Could it 
pass before our eye, as from eternity it has before his, 
a perfect and a complete whole, we should then cease 
to wonder, to cavil and repine. The infinite wisdom, . 
purity, and goodness, that originated and gave a cha- 
racter, a form, and a colouring, to all that God does, 
would appear as luminous to our view as to his, and 
ceaseless adoration and praise would be the grateful 
tribute of our loving hearts. 

'I'll row back a glance upon the past, and see how 
little you have ever understood of all the way God has 
led you. What a mystery — perhaps, now better ex- 
plained — lias enveloped his whole proceedings! When 
Joseph, for example, was torn from the homestead of 
hie father, sold, and borne a slave into Egypt, not a 
syllable of that eventful page of his history could he 
spell. All was to his mind as strange and unreadable 
as the hieroglyphics of the race, whose symbolical 
Literature and religion now for the first time met his 

Ami yet (Iml's way with this his servant was 

perfect. Ami could Joseph have seen at the moment 



80 Affliction. 

that lie descended into the pit, whither he was cast by 
his envious brethren, all the future of his history as 
vividly and as palpably as he beheld it in after years, 
while there would have been the conviction that all was 
well, Ave doubt not that faith would have lost much of 
its vigour, and God much of his glory. And so with 
good old Jacob. The famine, — the parting with Benja- 
min, — the menacing conduct of Pharaoh's prime minis- 
ter, wrung the mournful expression from his lips, » All 
these things are against me." All was veiled in deep 
and mournful mystery. Thus was it with Job, to whom 
God spake from the whirlwind that swept every vestige 
of affluence and domestic comfort from his dwelling. 
And thus, too, with Naomi, when she exclaimed, " Call 
me not Naomi, call me Mara : for the Almighty hath 
dealt very bitterly with me. I went out full, and the 
Lord hath brought me home again empty." How easy 
were it to multiply these examples of veiled and yet 
all-wise dispensations ! 

And is this the way of the Lord with you, my reader ? 
Are you bewildered at the mazes through which you are 
threading your steps ; at the involved circumstances of 
your present history ; the incidents which seem so netted 
and interlaced one with the other as to present to your 
view an inextricable labyrinth? Deem yourself not 
alone in this. No mystery has lighted upon your path 
but what is common to the one family of God : " This 
honour have all his saints." The Shepherd is leading 
you, as all the flock are led, with a skilful hand and in 



Jesus Veiling his Dealings. 81 

a right way. It is yours to stand if he bids you, or to 
follow if he leads. » He giveth no account of any of 
his matters," assuming that his children have such con- 
fidence in his wisdom, and love, and uprightness, as, in 
all the wonder-working of his dealings with them, to 
"be still and know that he is God." That it is to the 
honour of God to conceal, should in our view justify all 
his painful and humiliating procedure with us. " It is 
the glory of God to conceal a thing," as it will be for 
hi- endless glory by and by folly to reveal it all. But 
there is one thing, Christian sufferer, which he cannot 
conceal. He cannot conceal the love that forms the 
spring and foundation of all his conduct with his saints. 
Do what he will, conceal as he may ; be his chariot the 
thick clouds, and his way in the deep sea ; still his love 
betrays itself, disguised though it may be in dark and 
impenetrable providence. There are under tones, gentle 
and tender, in the roughest accents of our Joseph's voice. 
And he who has an ear ever hearkening to the Lord, 
and delicately attuned to the gentlest whisper, shall 
often exclaim, — " Speak, Lord, how and when and where 
thou lnayest — it is the voice of my beloved!" 

But we have arrived at an interesting and cheering 
truth — the full unveiling of all the Lord's dealings in a 
holier and a brighter world. " What I do, thou knowest 
ii'.t now; hut thou, xho.lt Tcnow hereafter." That there 

ifl :i present partial understanding of Cod's will and 

mceming as, we readily concede. We may, now 
and then. >>■<• a needs be for liis conduct. The veil is 
II 



82 Affliction. 

just sufficiently lifted to reveal a portion of the "end 
of the Lord." He will make us acquainted with the 
evil which he corrects, with the backsliding which he 
chastens, with the temptation which he checks, and with 
the dangerous path around which he throws his hedge ; 
so that we cannot escape. We see it, and we bless the 
hand outstretched to save. He will also cause us to be 
fruitful. We have mourned our leanness, have con- 
fessed our barrenness, and lamented the distance of our 
walk, and the little glory we bring to his dear name, — 
and lo ! the dresser of the vineyard has appeared to 
prune his sickly branch, " that it may bring forth more 
fruit." "By this therefore shall the iniquity of Jacob 
be purged ; and this is all the fruit to take away his 
sin." The deeper teaching, too, — the result of the 
divine chastenings, — has revealed to some extent the 
" end of the Lord" in his mysterious conduct. there 
is no school like God's school ; for " who teacheth like 
him ?" And God's highest school is the school of trial. 
All his true scholars have graduated from this : " Who 
are these which are arrayed in white robes ? and whence 
came they ? These arc they which came out of great 
tribulation, and have washed their robes, and made 
them white in the blood of the Lamb." "Blessed is 
the man, Lord, whom thou chasteneth and teacheth 
him out of thy law." Ask each spiritually, deeply- 
taught Christian where he attained his knowledge — and 
he will point you to God's great university — the school 
of trial. 



Jesus Veiling his Dealings. 83 

But there is a time coining, a blessed time of " good 
things to come," when the darkness will all have passed 
away, the mystery of God will be finished, and the 
present conduct of our Saviour will be fully cleared up. 
» What I do, thou knowest not now ; but thou shalt 
hioiv hereafter.'" that "hereafter" what a solemn 
word to the ungodly ! Is there, then, a hereafter? 
Jesus says there is ; and I believe it, because he says it. 
That hereafter will be terrible to the man that dies in 
his sins. It will be a hereafter, whose history will be 
» written in mourning, lamentation, and woe." It had 
been better for thee, reader, living and dying, impeni- 
tent and unbelieving, hadst thou never been born, or, 
had there been no hereafter. But there is a hereafter 
of woe to the sinner, as of bliss to the saint. " These 
shall go away into everlasting punishment : but the 
righteous into life eternal." (Matt. xxv. 46.) 

The position which the Christian shall occupy here- 
after, will be most favourable to a full and clear com- 
prehension of all the mysteries of the way. The 
•• clouds and darkness" — emblems in our history of ob- 
scurity and distress — which now envelop God's throne, 
and enshroud his government of the saints, will have 
' away ; the mist ami fog will have vanished, and 
breathing a purer atmosphere, and canopied by a 
brighter sky, the glorified saint will see every object, 
. incident, ami step, w Li h an eye unobscured 
by a vapour, and unmoistened by a tear. "Now we 
in part, then shall we know even as we are 



84 Affliction. 

known." And what shall we know ? All the mysteries 
of Providence. Things which had made us greatly 
grieve, will now be seen to have been causes of the 
greatest joy. Clouds of threatening, which appeared 
to us charged with the agent of destruction, will then 
unveil, and reveal the love which they embosomed and 
concealed. All the mysteries of faith too will be known. 
"Now w r e see through a glass, darkly (in a riddle) ; but 
then face to face; now I know in part; but then shall 
I know even as also I am knowm." The great "mys- 
tery of Godliness" will develop and unfold its wonders. 
His everlasting love to his church — his choice of a 
people for himself — his sovereign grace in calling them, 
all, all, will shine forth with unclouded lustre to the 
eternal praise of his great and holy name. what a 
perfect, harmonious, and glorious whole will all his 
doings in providence and grace appear, from first to 
last, to the undimmed eye, the ravished gaze of his 
white-robed, palm-bearing church. 

Many and holy are the lessons we may gather from 
this subject. The first is — the lesson of deep humility. 
There are three steps in the Christian's life. The first 
is — humility ; the second is — humility ; the third is — 
humility. " Thou shalt remember all the way which 
the Lord thy God led thee these forty years in the 
wilderness, to humble thee, and to prove thee, to know 
what was in thine heart." In veiling his dealings, Jesus 
would "hide pride" from us. How loftily and self- 
sufficiently should w r e walk did we see all our present 



Jesus Veiling his Dealings. 85 

and future history plain before us. We should ascribe 
to our own wisdom and skill, prudence and forethought, 
the honour which belongs to Christ alone. Let us, 
then, lie low before the Lord, and humble ourselves 
under his mysterious hand. " The meek will he guide 
in judgment, and the meek will he teach his way. All 
the paths of the Lord are mercy and truth unto such 
as keep his covenant and his testimonies." Thus 
writing the sentence of death upon our wisdom, our 
sagacity, and our strength, Jesus — the lowly one — 
seeks to keep us from the loftiness of our intellect, and 
from the pride of our heart prostrating us low in the 
dust at his feet. Holy posture ! blessed place ! There, 
Lord, would I lie ; my trickling tears of penitence and 
love, falling upon those dear feet that have never misled, 
but have always gone before, leading me by a right 
way, the best way, to a city of rest. 

"To cure thee of thy pride — that deepest-seated ill, 
God humbled his own self — wilt thou thy pride keep still?" 

We should learn from this subject to live by faith 
amidst the enshrouding dealings of our God. There- 
Pore arc those dealings often so dark. Could we ever 
tee all the road, faith would have no play : this precious, 
this Christ-honouring, this God-glorifying grace would 
lie dormant in the bouI. But, in " leading the blind by 
thai they know not," he teaches them to confide 
in the knowledge, truth, and goodness of their Divine 
escort — and that confidence is the calm unquestioning 
repose of faith. 



8G Affliction. 

" My spirit on thy care, 
Blest Saviour, I recline ; 
Thou -wilt not leave me to despair, 
For thou art love divine. 

" In thee I place my trust, 
On thee I calmly rest; 
I know thee good, I know thee just, 
And count thy choice the best. 

" Whate'er events betide, 

Thy will they all perform : 
Safe in thy breast my head I hide, 
Nor fear the coming storm. 

"Let good or ill befall, 

It must be good for me ; 

Secure of having thee in all, 

Of having all in thee."* 

Oli, sweet, consoling words of Jesus ! — " What I do." 
Not what men do — not what angels do — not what thou 
doest,--but, "what I do." Is the loved one wrenched 
from your heart? — "I have done it," says Jesus. Is 
the desire of thine eyes smitten down with a stroke ? — 
" I have done it," says Jesus. Is it the loss of property, 
of health, of position, of friends, that overwhelms you 
with grief? — "I have done it," says Jesus. "What I 
do thou knowest not now ; but thou shalt know here- 
after." How many a mother has this promise soothed, 
while with an anguish such as a mother only knows, 
she has gazed upon the withered flower on her breast ! 
How many a father, standing by the couch of death, 
grasping the cold clammy hand of the pride of his heart, 
* Rev. II. F. Lyte. 



Jesus Veiling his Dealings. S7 

has felt the power of these words, more sweet and more 
soothing than an angel's music — « What I do thou 
knowest not now; but thou shalt know hereafter." 
Wait, then, suffering child, the coming glory — yielding 
yourself to the guidance of your Saviour, and submitting 
yourself wholly to your Father's will. 

WlNSLOW. 



88 Affliction. 



Scriptural Selections. 

Confirming the souls of the disciples, and exhorting them to con- 
tinue in the faith, and that we must through much tribulation enter 
into the kingdom of God.— Acts, xiv. 22. 

That no man should be moved by these afflictions : for yourselves 
know that we are appointed thereunto. 

For verily, when we were with you, we told you before that we 
should suffer tribulation ; even as it came to pass, and ye know.— 
1 Thes. iii. 3, 4. 

For even hereunto were ye called : because Christ also suffered for 
us, leaving us an example, that ye should follow his steps : 

Who did no sin, neither was guile found in his mouth : 

Who, when he was reviled, reviled not again ; when he suffered, he 
threatened not; but committed himself to him that judgeth righte- 
ously.— 1 Pet. ii- 21, 23. 



Jesus Veiling his Dealings. 89 



Peace in Affliction. 

Lord ! bow happy should we be, 
If we could cast our care on tliee, 

If we from self could rest ; 
And feel at heart that One above, 
In perfect wisdom, perfect love, 

Is working for the best. 

How far from this our daily life ! 
Ever disturbed by anxious strife, 

By sudden wild alarms ; 
could we but relinquish all 
Our earthly props, and simply fall 

On thy Almighty arms ! 

Could we but kneel, and cast our load, 
E'en while we pray, upon our God; 

Then rise with lightened cheer, 
Sure that the Father who is nigh 
To still the famished raven's cry 

AV ill hear, in that we fear. 

We cannot trust him as we should, 
So chafea fallen nature's restless mood 

To oasl its peace away ; 
ret birds and flow'n t round as preach. 
AM, oil the present evil teach 

Sufficient for the day. 
12 



90 



Affliction. 



Lord, make these faithless hearts of ours, 
Such lessons learn from birds and flowers 

Make them from self to cease ; 
Leave all things to a Father's will, 
And taste, before him lying still, 

E'en in affliction, peace. 



itatkt. 



(M) 



RESIGNATION. 



r. 
Silent Suffering. 

"J was dumb, I opened not my mouth, because thou didst ('(.''—Psalm xxxrx. 9. 

I BELIEVE that there are few of us who have not 
frequently heard this Psalm read upon funeral occa- 
sions ; and we must, no doubt, approve the propriety 
of the choice, as it contains some very weighty reflec- 
tions on the mortality of human nature, expressed with 
great solemnity, and intermingled Avith proper devo- 
tional addresses to that great and awful Being who has 
in righteous judgment passed that sentence on sinful 
man, hy which we and our friends are brought down to 
the dust : fur it is he, as the Psalmist well expresses it 
•~>), wlio lias made our days as a hand's breadth, 
,/,/</ our age as nothing before him; so that every man, 
in bis best state, is altogether vanity. "When the mind 
i- agitated with strong affections, ii is difficult to re- 
strain the tongue from some undue liberty of speech: 

(98) 



94 Resignation. 

at least, there may be an inward language, audible to 
the ear of God, which may be displeasing to him, if 
there be not a care to impose silence upon every re- 
pining thought, as well as to keep the mouth as with a 
bridle. But it is the design of the providence of God, 
in conjunction with his ordinances, to teach us, what- 
ever our trials may be, how dear soever the enjoyments 
which we may lose, and how heavy soever the burthen 
which we may bear, to be dumb with silence, after the 
example of the pious Psalmist, and not to open our 
mouths, because whatever it is that has fallen upon us, 
has come from the hand of God. 

1. Let the Christian reflect that God can do no 
wrong to him, or to any of his creatures. 

Let him not only consider the sovereignty of the 
Almighty's dominion, which is such that no creature 
can pretend to contend with him, but also the essential 
rectitude of his nature, which is such that none can 
have any right inwardly to censure, or to complain of 
what he does. " my soul ! he has done it, who holds 
the reins of universal empire. He, who does what he 
pleases in the armies of heaven, and amongst the inha- 
bitants of earth. He has done it, who spake the crea- 
ting word, and it ivas done; he who is the potter, and 
every creature, on earth and in heaven, but as clay in 
his hand, to be moulded according to his own will. And 
shall the thing formed say to him that formed it, why 
hast thou made me thus f Well may it be said in that 
connexion, 'Nay, Oman! who art thou that repliest 






Silent Suffering. 95 

against God ? Let the potsherds strive with the pot- 
sherds of the earth ; but woe unto him that strives with 
his Maker! ' ' This is a silencing thought: nor does 
it impose merely such a silence as proceeds from the 
dread of superior power, or the despair of being able to 
make anything out by resisting it ; but with the convic- 
tion of such sovereign authority and dominion is neces- 
sarily connected that also of infinite perfection. It 
cannot be good to the Almighty that he should oppress. 
Nothing can tempt Omnipotence in any instance to do 
evil. The infinite understanding of God must ever see 
■what is right ; his all perfect mind, seeing it, must ap- 
prove it ; and, approving it, must do it, being infinitely 
above all temptation to deviate from it. There is 
always reason to say, Good is the word of the Lord that 
he has spoken, for this very reason, because it is his 
word ; because it is spoken by him. " my perverse 
hearl ! what wouldst thou say? Wouldst thou dare to 
fly in the face of God himself? Wouldst thou dare to 
charge him with tyrannical administration ? Wouldst 
thou dare to say, Lord, thou art now beginning to act 
unworthy of thyself : thou governest other beings wisely 
and well ; but thou neglectest me, and availcst thyself 
"I thine irresistible power to overbear my rights, and 
to oppress me in judgment! God forbid ! who would 
not rather Bay, Let my tongue cleave to the roof of my 
mouth, before I utter such a word; yea, let my mind 
lose all it - rational faculties rather than harbour such a 
thomrhl !" 



9G Resignation. 

"2. Let the Christian further recollect what God has 
clone for him, as a reason why he should be silent under 
what God now does to hirn. 

Were he only to consider himself as the creature of 
God, without attending to what is peculiar to him as 
being a Christian, he might see enough to silence his 
complaints. » Has not the blessed God given to me 
my being? such a being! with such noble powers and 
endowments as I possess ! Has he not set me here at 
the head of this visible creation ? in this spacious and 
magnificent palace, which he has raised for the human 
family, and furnished and adorned in this commodious, 
grand, and beautiful manner ? Has he not been the 
guardian of my infancy, and my childhood ? and in riper 
years my guide and my benefactor in numberless in- 
stances ? Has he not given to me all that I have ; every 
comfort in life, personal or relative ? When I look 
round about me upon all that I can call my treasure, 
my possession, does not everything bear his name, as 
it were, inscribed upon it as the donor ? The gift of 
Grod. May I not be reminded of his bounty by all that 
I possess ; yea, by all that I lose, and all that I suffer ? 
This member, which is the seat of pain or disease, did 
he not form it ? and has he not given to me the easy 
and comfortable use of it during these many years, 
though he now lays his hand upon it ? This friend, 
who is now laid in the grave, was she not a creature of 
his, whom he formed and gave to me ; and in whom, 
perhaps, he blessed me for many years ? and is such a 



Silent Suffering. 97 

friend and benefactor to be quarrelled with, because he 
sometimes resumes a little of what he has given ?" 

But this is not all. I am speaking to you now as 
Christians : and then consider how the account rises. 
<<Has not God blessed me with the knowledge of his 
gospel, and of his Son ? Has he not sent to me the 
tidings of grace and salvation by him ? and has he not 
by his Holy Spirit made him dear and precious to my 
heart ; and given to me some cheerful and comfortable 
hope of an interest in him as my Redeemer and my 
Saviour ? And can there be matter of complaint against 
him when I consider this ? Has not his arm brought 
salvation to my view ? A salvation which he himself 
wrought out in so wonderful a manner ? And ought not 
that consideration to reconcile me to everything else 
which comes from so good a hand ? to all his other 
doings ?" 

3. Let the Christian recollect what God might have 
done with him, and to him, as a further reason for being 
silent under the afflicting of the Divine hand. 

" The hand of God has now touched me and pained 

me. True ! but it has not destroyed me. He has not, 

ae Job expresses it, let loose liis hand against me, and 

•■at me off : and might he not have done that ? He has 

taken away this and that comfort. True! but might 

he not have taken away all ; and hare stripped me quite 

naked and bare? yea, might he not have taken away 

my soul \ have destroyed my very existence? or, what 

would have been ten thousand times worse, have sup- 
L3 



98 Resignation. 

ported it only to make it miserable ? God has chastised 
me with rods : but what are those scorpions with which 
he might have scourged me, and have been righteous in 
doing it ! Hast thou not, my soul ! by numberless 
provocations, most righteously exposed thyself to his 
everlasting vengeance ? What if thou hadst, even now, 
been in the abodes of the damned, surrounded with 
eternal darkness and despair ! would he have been un- 
just in speaking, and unrighteous in judging thus ? Be 
silent then, my heart ! before him ; and let not God 
hear the lightest murmur : but rather let me fall down 
upon my knees, and adore his sovereign goodness that 
he has yet spared me ; and, much more, that he gives 
me any hope that he will save me." 

4. Let the Christian consi^pr what God is now doing 
in a wider extent of the prospect than can arise merely 
from the view of any present affliction. 

" Thou, Lord, hast done this. Thou hast afflicted ray 
body ; thou hast disappointed my prospects ; thou hast 
blasted my hopes ; thou hast slain my friends. But this 
is not all that thou art now doing : thou still continuest 
thy goodness to me ; thou causest thy sun to arise, and 
thy rain to descend upon me; thou feedest and clothest 
me daily ; thou sparest to me many dear and valuable 
friends, whom it were base and barbarous ingratitude 
to slight because some are taken away. Thou art still 
continuing to me the liberty of access to the throne of 
grace ; encouraging and inviting me, if I have not this 
or that remaining comfort in the creature, to come to 



Silent Suffering. 



thee ; to tell thee my sorrows and my complaints ; tc 
seek in thee what I have lost elsewhere, and more than 
I have lost. Yea, thou art continuing to me the liberty 
of thine house, and the privileges of thine ordinances. 
I am not banished from the solemn assembly by the 
violence of my enemies, who would gladly long ere this 
have introduced universal confusion and desolation, and 
have burnt up all the synagogues of Grod in the land. 
I am not his prisoner at home, as many of my Christian 
brethren are, in this land of liberty. Blessed be his 
name ! I can come up to his house, as it is this day. 
Yea, he spreads his oion table for me. As if all the 
blessings of mine were not, as indeed they are not, suffi- 
cient, he sets before me the body and blood of his own 
Son ; gives him to me as the bread of life that comes 
down from heaven. It is the blessing of this day and 
of this hour. And is this a day and hour in which to 
be complaining of him ? as if it were not enough that I 
am here, unless it were with such and such a fellow 
creature ; possessed of so much silver and gold ; arrayed 
in such or such apparel ; with such and such degrees of 
health and strength and spirits ! Oh ! surely it may be 
enough that I am here as a member of Christ, as a 
child of God! especially when with that is connected 
this further thought, as an heir of glory." Which leads 
me i o add, 

5. Let the Christian further consider what God will 
further and hereafter do for him, and it must surely 
silence him iiinler whatever God has uow done. 



100 



Resign at ion. 



And if you ask, what? Let the Jewish Psalmist 
answer in these emphatical words, « Thou shalt guide 
me with thy counsel, and afterwards receive me to 
glory." " Has God forsaken me, that I should murmur 
and complain ? Is he now doing the last office of kind- 
ness and love that he ever intends ? No ; he will never 
leave me nor forsake me. This is still his language, 
' Fear not, for I am with thee : be not dismayed, for I 
am thy God.' He will choose my inheritance for me. 
He will watch over me for good, and cause all things 
to work together for my truest advantage. He will 
subdue my iniquity ; he will strengthen my graces ; and, 
having begun the good work in me, he will carry it on 
till the dag of the Lord. In a little while, perhaps, a 
very little, he will do what to an eye of sense indeed 
looks like a dreadful work, but to faith wears a most 
cheerful aspect. He will, by his Providence, say to me, 
as to Moses, Go up and die. But that act of his, which 
consigns this mortal sinful body to the dust and worms, 
will be the most gracious act that he ever exerted since 
he regenerated my soul by the power of his Spirit. 
Then farewell to all my pains and my fears, my disap- 
pointments and my sorrows at once. Farewell, for a 
little while, to all my surviving friends ; and welcome 
more perfect and glorious friends. Welcome the dear 
deceased Christians, ovei» whom I have so often wept. 
Welcome, above all, the bosom of my Saviour, in which 
I also shall rest with them. abyss of joy and de- 
light ! and yet not all that I hope. The resurrection 



Silent Suffering. 101 

of the body shall complete the plan of my perfect hap- 
piness, with all the chosen in the everlasting enjoyment 
of God, of Christ, of one another, in forms of devotion 
and glory ; of glory and felicity which eye has not seen, 
nor ear heard, neither hath entered into the heart of man. 
And shall not all be taken well from a hand which will 
do all this ? a hand which, even while it afflicts, has 
this great end of all in view, that the light afflictions, 
which are but for a moment, may work out a far more 
exceeding and an eternal loeight of glory." 

Whatever it may please God to work, there is some- 
thing not only quieting but elevating in these considera- 
tions : something which may not only silence a Christ- 
ian's complaint, but engage him to break out into a 

song of praise. 

Doddridge. 



102 Resignation. 



Scriptural Selections. 

Seeing then that we have a great High Priest, that is passed into 
the heavens, Jesus the Son of God, let us hold fast our profession. 

For we have not an high priest which cannot be touched with the 
feeling of our infirmities: but was in all points tempted like as we are, 
yet without sin. 

Let us therefore come boldly unto the throne of grace, that we may 
obtain mercy, and find grace to help in time of need.— Heb. iv. 14— 1G. 

Eehold, the Lord God will come with strong hand, and his arm shall 
rule for him : behold, his reward is with him, and his work before him. 

He shall feed his flock like a shepherd : he shall gather the lambs 
with his arm, and carry them in his bosom, and shall gently lead those 
that are with young. — Is. xl. 10, 11. 

Hast thou not known ? hast thou not heard, that the everlasting 
God, the Lord, the Creator of the ends of the earth, fainteth not, 
neither is weary ? there is no searching of his understanding. 

He giveth power to the faint ; and to them that have no might he 
increaseth strength. 

Even the youth shall faint and be weary, and the young men shall 

utterly fall : 

But they that wait upon the Lord shall renew their strength ; they 
shall mount up with wings as eagles ; they shall run, and not be weary ; 
and they shall walk and not faint.— Is. xl. 28—31. 



Silent Suffering. 103 



The Weaned Child. 

Qtjiet, Lord, my froward heart, 
Make me teachable and mild, 
Upright, simple, free from art ; 
Make me as a weaned child. 
From distrust and envy free, 
Pleased with all that pleases Thee. 

What thou shalt to-day provide, 

Let me as a child receive ; 
What to-morrow may betide, 
Calmly to Thy wisdom leave. 
'Tis enough that Thou wilt care, 
V/hy should I the burden bear 1 

As a little child relies 

On a care beyond its own ; 
Knows he's neither strong nor wise — 
Fears to stir a step alone — 
Let me thus with Thee abide, 
As my Father, Guard, and Guide. 

Thus preserved from Satan's wiles, 

Safe from dangers, free from fears, 
May I live upon thy smiles 
Till the promised hour appears ; 
When the sons of God shall prove 
All their Father's boundless line. 



104 Kesignation. 



II. 

Songs in the Night Season. 

" But none saith, where U God my Maker, who giveth songs in the night?"— Job, xxxv. 10. 

THE night is proverbially a time of festivity and 
song. The cares and business of the day are then 
over ; the taxed mind and the wearied muscles seek re- 
laxation ; the stillness of the evening invites to those 
pleasures which cannot be enjoyed amidst the bustle 
and din of business ; and the darkness calling off the 
mind from the outdoor duties and gayeties, turns it to 
those domestic or social or festive gatherings, where 
the gladness of the heart testifies its existence by sing- 
ing and the voice of melody. 

But the vast majority of these songs are earth-born, 
and designed only for earthly ends. The bacchanalian 
chorus, the moonlight serenade, the orchestral concert, 
the parlour melody, the love-lorn ditty, and the trumpet- 
rousing strains of martial music, are each of terrestrial 
birth ; and though they may deeply affect the heart, 
rousing it to wildest joy or sinking it to pensive sad- 
ness, yet are they evanescent, and soon are among the 
things of a forgotten past. 

No such songs, though sung with unrivalled art, 
though swelling with delicious melody, though rich in 

(104) 



Songs in the Night Season. 105- 

tones of "linked sweetness long drawn out," satisfy 
the soul. Who that has listened to the most rapturous 
songs, to those which in our imagination come nearest 
to angelic harmony, has not, as its last cadence fell on 
the ear, and its last echo died away, felt a pang of 
sorrow that such tones must die as fast as they are 
uttered ? that, with a soul fitted to enjoy such vocal 
richness, we can obtain it so seldom and so briefly ? And 
to all this has there not often been joined the wish, Oh ! 
that there were songs that would never cease to thrill ! 
Oh ! that there were voices that would never lose their 
tone and compass by age ! Oh ! that there were places 
where we might ever abide, and listen at will to the 
treasured melodies of tongue and harp in their loftiest 
manifestation ! 

There are such places — there are such voices — there 
are such song's. Yet when I tell you of them, the very 
hearts that profess most to desire them will turn away 
with scornful looks, and perhaps deride them as the out- 
bursts of hot-brained enthusiasm or of canting hypo- 
crisy. But sneer as you may — curl your lip until it 
becomes rigid with scorn — mock until you have ex- 
hausted the vocabulary of obloquy, and defame until 
you are startled by your own blasphemy, I tell you in 
a freedom that invites investigation, ami with a bold- 
oess thai challenges denial, that the religion of Jesus 
( 'Jurist furnishes such songs, times such voices, and opens 
suoJi places "J' perpetual "m/ sublimesi melody ; for the 
mansions of glory for ever resound with saintly voices 
I l 



•106 Resignation. 

singing the songs of Moses and the Lamb. But you 
may say this is all true, but what I want is a present 
gladness of heart — a present song of joy — amidst the 
daily cares, trials, perplexities, and bereavements of this 
mortal life ; and where can I find such ? My answer 
still is, in the gospel of the Son of Grod, and there alone ! 

The time when these songs are mostly needed and de- 
sired is in the night season ; not the period of physical 
darkness, but the moral night season — the night season 
of humiliation — the night season of adversity — the night 
season of sorrow — the night season of sickness — the 
night season of death ; and it is just in these times that 
the true Christian rejoices in God his Maker, who giveth 
him songs in the night. 

In the life of every individual there are periods of 
humiliation which take down his pride and bend his 
spirit to the dust. It may be that the person has oc- 
cupied some post of honour or profit from which he has 
been removed — it may be that some unexpected blot 
has marred and stained his family name — it may be 
that failure in business has injuriously affected his cha- 
racter, and required him to take a lowly social position, 
and that in consequence, the gay and the fashionable, 
who flutter only around the candle of the prosperous, 
turn their heads at his approach, renounce his society, 
and cast themselves loose from his family circle — it may 
be that he is visited by some sore and noisome disease, or 
by some unexpected deformity that clings to him like a 
thorn in the flesh, and ever humbles him by a conscious- 



Songs in the Night Season. 107 

ness of its presence — it may be that false reports have 
tarnished his fair name, and caused him to be marked 
and avoided, — indeed, there are so many causes of hu- 
mility actively at work, that it would be in vain to at- 
tempt to enumerate them. Some one of these, how- 
ever, occasionally affects each person, and makes him bow 
his head in humiliation. Does the Bible furnish us any 
songs for such a night season, when the darkness of ad- 
versity, of desertion, of reproach, and of deep self-loath- 
ing, stretches over us a black and starless firmament ? 
Yes, it does. It is furnished in the beautiful words of the 
prophet Ilabakkuk, who, as if himself suffering under just 
such trials, dictates to the chief singer upon his stringed 
instrument the following exquisite ode: "Although 
the fig tree shall not blossom, neither shall fruit be in 
the vines ; the labour of the olive shall fail, and the 
fields shall yield no meat : the flock shall be cut off 
from the fold, and there shall be no herd in the stalls : 
Yet I will rejoice in the Lord, I will joy in the God of 
my salvation." What a precious song is this for the 
night season of humiliation and adversity ! It teaches 
tli.it qo earthly changes should ever shake our confidence 
in God ; that His favour is not dispensed to us accord- 
ing to <nir worldly advantages and position; that His 
ways of dealing are disciplinary, and will, if rightly im- 
proved, \\<>rk out for us an exceeding weight of glory. 
"What though the honours von oner wore are taken from 
you? if yon arc Christ's, there is reserved for you "a 

crown of life." What though your earthly reputation 



108 Resignation. 

is unjustly stained ! there is laid up for you m heaven 
a robe of spotless white, with which to array your ran- 
somed spirit. What though you have, through circum- 
stances beyond your control, failed in your business and 
shattered your fortune ? You have in store for you 
above, treasures that never fail — the treasures of Divine 
redeeming grace. What though you know not whence 
shall come the next supply of daily bread, or where at 
night you shall find a place of rest ; or how, when one 
change of raiment is worn, you shall obtain another ? 
Your Saviour passed through just such trials. He was 
often an hungered ; he had not what the foxes and the 
birds had — a place where to lay his head — and his 
raiment was the gift of poor but loving friends. You 
cannot in any condition of adversity go into lower depths 
than Jesus went ; and no Christian should be unwilling 
to follow his steps, though they pass through the lowly 
and rugged places of life. Only take his hand in the 
strong clasp of faith, and never relax your hold, and 
Jesus will make the vale of humiliation radiant with 
the light of his own countenance — will put into your 
mouth songs of praise, and guide you into final and un- 
ending joy. Most forcibly was this illustrated in the 
case of Paul and Silas. They had been arrested in 
Philippi, a Roman colony, for boldly preaching in the 
name of the Lord Jesus ; and having by the orders of the 
magistrates been severely scourged, were thrust into the 
inner cells of the prison, and, lest they should by any 
means escape, their feet were made fast in the stocks. 



Soxgs in the Night Season. 109 

This -was to tliem a deep humiliation. Paul "was a Ro- 
man citizen, and so was Silas ; and yet, though the Por- 
cian law, in the language of Cicero, "had removed the 
rod from the body of every Roman citizen," so that none 
claiming such citizenship could be beaten, yet they 
had had " many stripes laid upon them ;" they had been 
hooted and reviled by the rabble of the town — they had 
been traduced and vilified by lying and malicious 
tongues — they had been imprisoned in the lowest, dark- 
est, filthiest cell of the Philippi jail, and they had re- 
ceived the still further indignity of having their feet 
cruelly fastened in the stocks. What deep affliction ! 
you say ; what barbarous treatment ! — how it must 
have chafed and humbled their spirits ! — how it must 
have suggested in them plans of deep and far-reaching 
revenge ! Could there be joy for them ? Behold them ; 
their clothes have been so torn by the multitude that 
they hang in tatters about them. Their backs have 
been cruelly torn to the quick by the lictor's thongs, 
and the open unwashed wounds still smart with pain. 
Their feet are confined in such a manner as to give them 
no possibility of rest ; and the cold, damp, inner dungeon 
wraps around their half naked, bleeding, exhausted 
builics [ts chilling and unhealthy air. Can there be joy 
for 1 1 1 < ■ j 1 1 ? The city of Philippi is asleep — tit*- excited 
populace are at rest — the thronged streets are empty, 
and the two strangers who had so engrossed the public 
mind are now forgotten in the deep alumbers of dark- 
lint Paul and Silas sleep not. Their pains and 



110 Resignation. 

their constrained position will not suffer them to close 
their eyes. And how are they employed in these wake- 
ful hours ? Hark ! It is midnight ! but its stillness is 
broken by the voice of singing. Listen ! It is no 
Orphic song to Bacchus — no Salian hymn to Diana — 
no Sapphic ode to Venus — nor yet do these sounds pro- 
ceed from the halls of revelry or the abodes of wealth : 
they issue from the prison walls ; it is the voice of 
strange melody struggling upwards from the inner cell 
— it is Paul and Silas, the beaten, imprisoned, bleeding 
servants of God, praying and singing praises unto God. 
They had found and were then rejoicing in " God their 
Maker," who had given them " songs in the night." 

The season of bereavement is emphatically a night 
season to the human heart. The joys that once gave 
it delight are withdrawn ; the scenes in which it once 
revelled with pleasure are vanished ; a beloved one has 
been removed from the chambers of life to the cham- 
bers of death ; and the eye, the voice, the hand, the 
form that ministered so much to its joy and comfort, is 
closed and hushed, and palsied, and cold, in the silent 
grave. You sit in darkness in your darkened dwellings 
— you feel that one of the great lights that ruled the 
day of your life has been put out, and there are deep 
shadows resting upon your spirit, which time and grace 
can alone remove. To some these night seasons recur 
with distressing frequency. The bright clays of pros- 
perity are short, and the dark hours of sorrow are as 
long and dreary as the nights of an Arctic winter. Tc 



Songs in the Night Season. Ill 

others, there is a long and sunny period of gladness, 
and years pass without a sorrow to cloud the sky ; 
when suddenly, perhaps, there steals in between your 
heart and the sun, the black form of death, and lo, for 
a time the darkness of a total eclipse shrouds your soul ; 
or, in the more expressive language of the Bible, your 
" sun has gone clown while it was yet day." 

And when these night seasons of sorrow come over 
the soul ; when, tossed upon the billows of affliction, you 
can say with imperilled and shipwrecked Paul, that 
" neither sun nor stars in many days appeared, and no 
small tempest lay on us," what can give you relief? 
What can give light in your darkness ? What can draw 
aside the curtains of your night season, and let in the 
bright and genial light of day ? Friends cannot do it, 
though their sympathy is indeed grateful to the mind. 
Society cannot do it, for you shun it as something dis- 
cordant to your soul. Worldly pleasures cannot do it, 
for you sec them in their vanity as you never before 
saw them, and loathe them as nauseous to your taste. 
At such times nothing can stay and comfort you but a 
living faith in Jesus Christ, and an abiding trust and 
confidence in the promises of Almighty God. And when 
your soul looks away for its comfort from everything 
of an earthly character, and turns its wistful eye of 
to <!<>d, thou is it, that He "giveth songs in the 
night." 

What :i nighl of bereavement was that which afflicted 
Job, when ;ill his children, ten in number, were suddenly 



_l 



112 Resignation. 

cut off at a blow ; and -when in addition to this he was 
as suddenly stripped of his riches and his honours, 
broken up in his family, robbed of his flocks and herds, 
and blasted in all his possessions ! and yet what a song 
in the night did God his maker put in his mouth when, 
instead of sinning and charging God foolishly, he caused 
him to say in the confidence of a lofty and unwavering 
faith, " the Lord gave and the Lord hath taken away ; 
blessed be the name of the Lord." 

What darkness brooded over David in his manifold 
afflictions and bereavements ! yet though he says " the 
waters are come in unto my soul," though he was 
"weary with crying" — his "throat was dried" — his 
" eyes failed," and he was "altogether poor and sor- 
rowful," yet he says in the same Psalm which records 
this deep distress, " I will praise the name of God with 
a song, and will magnify him with thanksgiving." 

And this is the language of all the true children of 
God, because they know that " affliction cometh not 
forth of the dust, neither doth trouble spring out of the 
ground :" that it is their heavenly Father Avho takes 
away their relatives and friends, and that in thus chas- 
tening them he is showing his love and interest in them, 
and so shaping his dealings as to develop in them the 
graces of the spirit, bring out in them the highest polish 
of Christian character, and prepare them in the most 
perfect manner for the rewards of grace in heaven. If 
we could so rise above our momentary feelings and our 
narrow relations to the persons and things around us, 



Songs in the Night Season. 113 

as to take in, in one broad view, the whole compass of 
our lives, and the future as well as present bearings of 
these afflictive dispensations — could we, in fact, survey 
them from the point of view which God occupies, or 
even from that one which we shall stand at in the 
eternal world, then, instead of murmuring and repining, 
instead of charging God with harshness, and stigma- 
tizing his dealings as unkind, we should the rather rejoice 
at the occurrence of afflictions. We should see how indis- 
pensable they were to the perfecting of the work of the 
Holy Ghost ; how without them we should perhaps lose 
our souls — how with them and by them as a necessary 
instrumentality, we are fitted for higher and holier joys 
in glory. Such considerations would put songs into our 
mouths, and cause us in every hour of sorrow's night 
season to sing aloud with gladness, and to rejoice in 
spirit, even while the iron was gashing its painful way 
into the deepest recesses of our affections. Stricken 
and mourning Christian, remember that there is no sea- 
son of sorrow so dark that God cannot find his way to 
your soul, and no night so black with grief that he cannot 
and will not light it up with " the pillar of his presence," 
to guide your feet, and to fill you with comfort. 

Sickness is emphatically, in the estimation of the 
world, a eight season. Suffering, restlessness, anxiety, 
Beclusion, days of weariness and nights of anguish, are 
ill- Bad and Bin-engendered accompaniments of the lol 
of nearly every child of Adam. Few have readied adult 
age, over whose lii'i' sickness has not passed; whose 



L5 



i 



114 



11 E S I G N A T I N. 



clayey tabernacle lias not been shaken by the earth- 
quake commotions of disease, and rent by the shakings 
of frequent sickness. We have been made to feel the 
frailty of flesh and blood— the folly of earthly joys — 
the uncertainty of human schemes. We have been 
borne, as it were, upon the sick litter, to the very brink 
of the grave ; been made, perhaps, to look down into its 
narrow depths, and then returned again to friends and 
health, to teach us the slenderness of our hold on life, 
the nearness of the tomb, the daily advances of an 
opening eternity. 

Yet, distressing as the period of illness is, the Bible 
furnishes for it songs set to heavenly music, melodious 
with angelic harmony. It assures the sick that " the 
Lord will strengthen him upon the bed of languishing ;" 
that "he will make all his bed in his sickness;" that 
« he will be merciful unto him, and heal his soul ;" and 
it points the sufferer to Jesus the Great Physician, who 
has balm for every pain, and healing medicines for every 
sickness. What a song in the night season of disease 
did Hezekiah find, when, having turned his face to the 
wall and prayed, God granted him length of years 
instead of cutting off his days in his strength; and 
what a joyful prayer does David put into the mouths 
of the sore distressed, when he teaches us to say, « 
Lord my God, I cried unto thee, and thou hast healed 
me. Lord, thou hast brought up my soul from the 
grave : thou hast kept me alive, that I should not go 
down to the pit. Sing unto the Lord, ye saints 



Songs in the Night Season. 115 

of his, and give thanks for a remembrance of his holi- 
ness. For his anger enclureth but a moment ; in his 
favour is life : "weeping may endure (or, as the original 
more forcibly declares, may lodge) for a night, but joy 
cometh in the morning." As if sorrow was only a way- 
farer who turned in for a night's lodging, to arise up and 
depart when the sun of the morning shone in at the 
casement. There are no solaces for hours of sickness 
like those found in the Bible ; there is no comforter in 
disease like the presence of Jesus Christ ; there is no 
light that can shine into and dissipate the darkness of 
the chamber of afflictive illness like the light of divine 
truth ; and nothing can furnish the heart with gladness, 
or fill the mouth with a song, but the sweet words and 
inbreathings of the Holy Spirit. 

And now we come to the last night season that visits 
us on earth — the night season of death. There may be 
those who have never known the darkness of adversity, 
of sorrow, of affliction, of disease, but all will know the 
night time of death. Though your sun of life from its 
rising hour has rolled through an unclouded sky, yet, 
however bright its morning, however dazzling its meri- 
dian, the hour of its setting must come — the evening 
of life, the night time of death is at hand. Friends 
dear as your own life must be parted from — scenes 
precious with a hundred fond associations must be 
abandoned — objects of interest in which the mind has 
long been absorbed must be given up — the cherished 
hopes of years must be thrown away, and everything 



116 



E.ESIGNATIOIS 



that fastened down your hearts to earthly scenes and 
objects must be sundered, and for ever. Will God our 
Maker, the same God who takes away our breath, will 
he give songs in the night season of death ? Yes, for 
he has promised, "Behold at even time it shall be 
lMit " and that "the redeemed of the Lord shall re- 
turn and come to him with songs and everlasting joy 
upon their heads." Death is to be dreaded only by 
those who have not made their peace with God ; by 
those who do not receive and believe on the Lord Jesus 
Christ as the Prophet, Priest, and King of their souls. 
To those who have truly repented of their sins past, 
who have made an unreserved surrender of their souls 
to Jesus Christ, and who are leading " a new life, fol- 
lowing the commandments of God and walking daily in 
his holy ways," death has no terrors. They feel that 
they deserve eternal punishment, but they know that 
Christ has borne the curse for them, and that therefore 
it will not fall upon their heads. They feel that they 
are utterly unworthy of salvation, and that it is not of 
themselves, but the free and sovereign gift of God, yet 
they know also that Christ has wrought it out for them, 
and will freely bestow it upon their souls. They know 
that they do not deserve heaven, that after doing all 
that they have done for Christ, they are but unprofitable 
servants, yet they know that they shall be received up 
into glory for Jesus' sake— through Jesus' merits— by 
virtue of Jesus' intercession. " Father I will that they 
also whom thou hast given me be with me where I am 
that they may behold," aye ! and that they may share 



Songs in the Night Season. 117 

too, " my glory." Hence having loved the Saviour, 
having lived for the Saviour, having committed the 
soul into his eternal keeping, the Christian is not afraid 
of death. His sun as it goes down sinks not to its rest 
in sorrow. His night of death as it draws on, sends no 
foreshadowing gloom into the soul. On the contrary, 
full of the peace of God, rejoicing in hope, strengthened 
by faith in Christ, he finds himself joyful while all 
around are sad and weeping ; and as the shadows deepen 
over his mortal life, there rises from his lips the hymn 
of praise to the abounding grace of God, and there is 
put into his mouth the song of triumph, " Oh death 
where is thy sting, oh grave where is thy victory ; the 
sting of death is sin, and the strength of sin is the law, 
but thanks be unto God who giveth us the victory 
through Jesus Christ our Lord." 

These arc some of the " songs in the night" given us 
by " God our Maker." Who does not desire to learn 
these songs ? — who docs not wish to sing them ? They 
can be learned only as Ave sit at the feet of Jesus and 
learn of him ; they can be sung only as our souls are 
filled by the Holy Ghost, but all are invited to come to 
Jesus and learn them ; for his language is, " Come unto 
me all ye that labour and are heavy laden and I will 
give you rest;" and all are promised the renewing of 
the Holy Spirit if they will but seek in faith the blessed 
Saviour, through whom alone they can have peace and 
acceptance with "God our Maker, who giveth bod 
the night." 

Stevens. 



L18 Resignation. 



Scriptural Selections. 

I will not leave you comfortless: I -will come to you. 

Feace I leave with you, my peace I give unto you : not as the world 
giveth give I unto you. Let not your heart be troubled, neither let 
it be afraid.— John, xiv. 18, 27. 

These things I have spoken unto you, that in me ye might have 
peace. In the world ye shall have tribulation : but be of good cheer : 
I have overcome the world. — John, xvi. 33. 

They that sow in tears shall reap in joy. 

He that goeth forth and weepeth, bearing precious seed, shall doubt- 
less come again with rejoicing, bringing his sheaves with him. — 
Ps. cxxvi. 5, G. 

He shall not cry, nor lift up, nor cause his voice to be heard in the 
street. — Is. xlii. 2. 

Who raised up the righteous man from the East, called him to his 
foot, gave the nations before him, and made him rule over kings ? he 
gave them as the dust to his sword, and as driven stubble to his bow. 

He pursued them and passed safely ; even by the way that he had 
not gone with his feet. — Is. xli. 2, 3. 



Songs in the Night Season. 119 



Midnight Hymn. 

' will rise to give thanks unto thee, because of thy righteous Judgments. — Psalm cxtx. 62 

In the mid silence of the voiceless night, 
AYhen, chased by airy dreams, the slumbers flee ; 
"Whom, in the darkness, doth my spirit seek, 
God, but thee? 

And, if there be a weight upon my breast, 
Some vague impression of the day foregone, 
Scarce knowing what it is, I fly to thee, 
And lay it down. 

Or, if it be the heaviness, that comes 
In token of anticipated ill, — 
My bosom takes no heed of what it is, 
Since 't is thy will. 

For, 0, in spite of past or present care, 

Or anything beside, — how joyfully 
Passes that silent, solitary hour, 
My God, with thee! 

More tranquil than the stillness of the night, 
More peaceful than the silence of that hour, 
More blest than anything, my bosom lies 
Beneath thy power. 

For, what is there on earth, that I desire, 
i If all that it can give, or take from me '.' 
or whom, in heaven, doth my spirit seek, 
M Gtod, but thee? 



III. 
The "Well Spring in the Desert. 

" This is my comfort in mine affliction."— Ps. cxix. 50. 
" It any among you afflicted? let him pray."— James, v. 13. 

THE Bible opens a spring of comfort for the afflicted. 
by giving them free access to the throne of grace, 
and inviting them to enjoy the privilege of prayer. 

This is, indeed, the Christian's privilege at all sea- 
sons ; and never will he feel himself to be in a right or 
comfortable state, whatever may be his outward pros- 
perity, if he allow himself to neglect that blessed ordi- 
nance, by which intercourse is maintained betwixt 
heaven and earth, and fellowship enjoyed by the crea- 
ture with the Creator. And he who, whether in pros- 
perity or adversity, makes it his daily practice to go to 
the throne of grace, and in everything by prayer and 
supplication with thanksgiving, makes his request known 
unto God, will, from his own experience, bear testimony 
to the truth of the promise, that " the peace of God 
which passeth all understanding, shall keep his heart 
and mind through Christ Jesus." 

But while prayer is a duty incumbent at all seasons, 
and a privilege which the highest prosperity affords no 
reason for neglecting, it is, in many respects, peculiarly 

seasonable in the time of affliction. 

(120) 



The Well Spring in the Desert. 121 

Affliction is favourable to the spirit of prayer. For, 
wherein does the true nature of prayer consist ? It 
consists in the desire of the heart, offered up to God ; 
and what better fitted to awaken earnest desire than 
the pressure of affliction ? In the day of prosperity, 
when every want or appetite of our nature is supplied, 
we may not be conscious of any very strong desire, and 
arc too apt to forget the fact of our dependence, in 
respect to the supply of our temporal wants ; and even 
in regard to our spiritual necessities, we are prone, 
when surfeited with worldly prosperity, to become cold 
and lukewarm in our desires after the communication 
of divine grace, by which alone they can be supplied. 
Is there one Christian who has not experienced the 
deadening effect of uninterrupted prosperity on the 
spiritual desires and holiest affections of his nature ? 
And if even Christians are too often lulled asleep by its 
influence, how much more may those be cradled into 
and forgetfulness of God, who have never known 
the necessity, nor made the deliberate choice, of a 
and more enduring portion ? But when their 
prosperous course is broken by severe affliction, the 
minds of both classes are brought into a new state ; the 
Christian is then tin-own back on the inward resources 
of his religion, and will then feel their necessity ami 

Valne; and even in an linsanctified bosom, such strong 
natural longings ^\\\ spring up, as may, under the bless- 

ing of God, Lead the worldling himself to Beet after a 
better portion than the world. In so far as affliction is 
[6 



122 Resignation. 

the means of awakening earnest desire, and exciting a 
sincere feeling in the heart, it is favourable to the spirit 
of prayer ; for that feeling, or that desire, if directed 
towards God, is prayer. 

Again, prayer is an expression of our dependence on 
God ; and it is in affliction that Ave are most sensible of 
our helplessness, — it is by affliction that we are made to 
feel how little of what most nearly concerns our happi- 
ness is under our own control, and how absolutely our 
interests are at the disposal of a higher power. What, 
for instance, can impress the mind with so deep a sense 
of helplessness, as the pressure of disease in our own 
persons, which no human skill can arrest or cure ; or 
the gradual decay and final dissolution of a beloved 
friend, at whose couch we watch by day and by night, 
and are only more and more confirmed in the convic- 
tion, that unless God interpose, vain is the help of man ? 
In so far as affliction teaches us our dependence on God, 
it is favourable to the spirit of prayer ; for why, in such 
circumstances, should we refrain from expressing that 
dependence which we feel, and acknowledging that help- 
lessness which we cannot deny, especially when we 
know that God has a sovereign control over all events, 
and that, if Ave procure his aid, Ave obtain the benefit 
of unerring Avisdom and almighty power ? 

Again, affliction is favourable to the spirit of prayer, 
because, when it is either sudden or severe, it is usually 
associated in the minds of men with a sense of guilt, 
and an apprehension of divine displeasure. "We insist 



The Well Spring in the Desert. 123 

not on the reasons of it, but on the bare fact that such 
an apprehension is universally felt by those who are ex- 
posed to imminent danger, or plunged in deep distress ; 
and that, by the constitution of our nature, such a con- 
nexion is established betwixt suffering and sin, as that 
the former cannot be, to any great extent, endured, 
without being accompanied with a deep sense of personal 
demerit and guilt. That such a connexion does exist, 
is evident from the dreadful apprehensions which are 
experienced and expressed by the most ungodly and 
careless, when they are suddenly brought into imminent 
danger. Many will then tremble, and think of God, 
who cared nothing for religion before. Have we not 
seen a family, enjoying a long course of prosperity, and 
as unmindful of God and religion, as if they were 
ignorant that they had a God to worship, and souls to 
be saved ; but when one of their number was suddenly 
seized by the hand of death, the whole of that gay 
household were also seized with religious fear, and none 
more anxious than they to procure the aid of a minis- 
• onsolations, and a minister's prayers ! Have we 
ii'.i known a rude and thoughtless sailor, spending every 
hour of fair weather and prosperous winds in jovial 
mirth, — night after night retiring to his cot without 
thinking of the God above, or of the hell beneath him, 
— and even, when the firsi gale arose that was to founder 
hi- Bhip, reckless of the coming storm; but when the 
crash w:i- heard, and when, from the force of habit, the 

first WOrd upon his lip was an oath, that oath died away 



124 Resignation. 

into a prayer, when the foaming waters burst across 
the deck, and lashed him into the mighty deep ! In 
the 107th Psalm, we find the tendency of affliction to 
produce prayer illustrated by many beautiful examples, 
— as in the case of the Jews wandering in the wilder- 
ness, in a solitary way, hungry and thirsty, and their 
souls fainting within them ; or in the case of those who, 
by reason of personal distress, " sit in darkness and in 
the shadow of death, being bound in affliction and iron, 
because they rebelled against the words of God;" or in 
the case of those who go down to the sea in ships, 
whose soul is melted because of trouble ; — in each case, 
it is added, " they cried unto the Lord in their trouble, 
and he delivered them out of their distresses." 

It is true, that in all these cases, prayer may, in the 
first instance, be nothing more than the cry of nature 
in distress ; the desires of such persons may not, at the 
outset, be purely spiritual ; and the sense of guilt which 
they experience, maybe characterized more by the terrors 
of remorse, than by the tenderness of true repentance. 
Be it so ; this does not hinder the usefulness of affliction, 
as a means in God's hand, of leading them to pray. 
God acts on the minds of men by rational inducements ; 
and seeing that, in their natural state, they are dead to 
the influence of higher and more spiritual motives, he 
has recourse to their sentient nature ; their hopes and 
their fears are addressed in the promises and threaten- 
ings of Scripture, and their love of happiness, and aver- 
sion to suffering, arc appealed to in the absence of 



The Well Spring in the Desert. 125 



holier principles. When he sends affliction, he appeals 
to their natural feelings ; and the lessons which it is 
fitted to teach, are so many motives to a religious life, 
— motives which, although, in the first instance, ad- 
dressed to the mere natural feelings, and hopes, and 
fearB of the sufferer, may, nevertheless, through these, 
arrest the attention, and reach the conscience, and ulti- 
mately renew the heart. The impressions which are 
made during a season of affliction, may be the result, in 
a great measure, of mere natural feeling ; but they may, 
nevertheless, be the means which the Holy Spirit has 
chosen for the commencement of a saving change ; and 
if they lead the sufferer to pray, they bring him under 
a new influence, whereby the sentient feelings which at 
first prompted him, may gradually and imperceptibly 
rise into gracious and devout affections. At all events, 
let no sufferer be debarred from the throne of grace, 
because he is in doubt as to the spirituality of his affec- 
tions, or depressed by a sense of guilt ; let him remem- 
ber, that as a sinner he is invited, and that his present 
affliction is designed to induce him to pray; and should 
li" -i ill question his warrant or his prospect of accept- 
ance, lei him remember the words of the apostle to Simon 
Magus, — "Thou art in the gall of bitterness and the 
bond of iniquity; but pray to God if perhaps the 
thoughl of thy heart may be forgiven thee." 

\ affliction prepares t!i<' mind for prayer, so prayer 

I in affliction. 
Prayer i- often the means "I" averting the evils with 



126 Resignation. 

which we are threatened, and of delivering us from 
those under which we labour. Its efficacy, both for de- 
fence and delivery, is frequently stated in express terms, 
and illustrated by striking examples in the Sacred 
Writings. 

It is recorded of Hezekiah, that when he heard the 
message of God by the mouth of Isaiah the prophet, 
saying, " Set thine house in order : for thou shalt die, 
and not live," he "turned his face toward the wall, and 
prayed unto the Lord, and said, Remember now, 
Lord, I beseech thee, how I have walked before thee in 
truth, and with a perfect heart, and have done that 
which is good in thy sight : and Hezekiah wept sore. 
Then came the word of the Lord to Isaiah, saying, Go 
and say to Hezekiah, Thus saith the Lord, the God of 
David thy father, I have heard thy prayer, I have seen 
thy tears : behold, I will add to thy days fifteen years." 
" And Isaiah said, Take a lump of figs ; and they took 
and laid it on the boil, and he recovered." Thus was 
a sore disease removed, and early death prevented by 
the efficacy of prayer ; and Hezekiah had reason to sing 
for joy : " Thou hast, in love to my soul, delivered it 
from the pit of corruption, for thou hast cast all my 
sins behind my back ; the Lord ivas ready to save me, 
therefore we will sing my songs to the stringed instru- 
ments, all the days of our life, in the house of the 
Lord." 

The history of the people of Israel affords many in- 
teresting examples of the effect of prayer in delivering 



The Weil Spring in the Desert. 127 

from outward trouble, as well as of the tendency of 
affliction to impress the most careless with the neces- 
sity and value of prayer. These examples are thus 
beautifully referred to in the 107th Psalm: "0 give 
thanks unto the Lord, for he is good; for his mercy 
endureth for ever. Let the redeemed of the Lord say 
so, whom he hath redeemed from the hand of the enemy. 
They wandered in the wilderness in a solitary way ; 
they found no city to dwell in. Hungry and thirsty, 
their souls fainted in them. Then they cried unto the 
Lord in their trouble, and he delivered them out of their 
distresses. For he satisfieth the longing soul, and 
filleth the hungry soul with goodness." 

Nor was the efficacy of prayer, in preventing or re- 
moving trouble, confined to the Jewish people, although 
they lived under a dispensation which was in many 
respects supernatural and miraculous; we are taught, 
on the contrary, to regard the examples which their 
history presents, as so many indications of the unaltera- 
ble principles on which the general government of the 
world i- conducted; and in so far as the point now be- 
fore Ofi is concerned, the same principle is recognised 
and embodied in a promise in the New Testament itself: 
•• II" any man is afflicted, let him call for the elders of 
the church ; and let them pray over him, anointing him 
with oil in tin' name of the Lord: and the prayer of 
faith shall save the sick, and the Lord shall raise him 
up : and if ho havo committed sin. it shall ho forgiven 
him." And in more (general terms, our Lord has said 



128 Resignation. 

to all his disciples, '-Ask and ye shall receive, seek and 
ye shall find, knock and it shall be opened unto you." 
"Whatsoever ye ask in my name, believing, ye shall 
receive." 

To this, many may be ready to oppose their own ex- 
perience, and may be unwilling to admit the efficacy of 
prayer in preventing or removing outward calamity, 
when they remember with what frequency and earnest- 
ness they supplicated for mercies which were, never- 
theless, withheld, and deprecated trials which were, 
nevertheless, sent or continued with them. They may 
remember that, when threatened with bereavement, 
they wept sore, and besought the Lord to spare and 
restore the object of their fond affections ; and yet, 
that he allowed disease to take its course, until it ter- 
minated in death. These facts, which no Christian 
minister will seek either to deny or to conceal, may 
have had the effect of staggering the belief of many in 
the efficacy of prayer; and where they have not had 
this effect, they may occasionally embarrass even the 
minds of believers, and overwhelm them with deep 
anxiety, by suggesting the awful thought, that, since 
their prayers have received no direct answer, they must 
either not be of the number of God's people at all, or 
they must "have prayed amiss." 

But these conclusions are not warranted by Scrip- 
ture, and they arise from a misapprehension, not so 
much of the promise annexed to prayer, as of the very 
nature of prayer itself. No prayer is scriptural which 



The Well Spring in the Desert. 



1-29 



does not express a desire in unison with the will of God ; 
and where the purpose of God is, as in most cases it 
must be, secret or unknown to us, no prayer is scrip- 
tural in which the expression of our own desire is not 
limited by a holy acquiescence in his will. We are not 
entitled, for example, to pray absolutely that God's 
chastening hand may be withdrawn from us, or that the 
life of a relative may be spared, or that we may be 
blessed with worldly prosperity ; — all these desires, 
however natural and however strong, must be limited 
by, and subordinated to, the will of Him who knoweth 
what is best for us, and who has graciously taken the 
management of our case into His own hands. This is 
strikingly implied in the very structure of that form of 
prayer which our Lord himself gave to his disciples ; 
for it ia a very remarkable fact, that the three first pe- 
titions of that prayer are expressive of a desire for 
God's glory, acquiescence in God's will, and zeal for 
the extension of His kingdom ; and it is not till after 
we have thus ascribed sovereignty to Jehovah, and cast 
ourselves absolutely into His hands, that we are per- 
mitted to broach one petition for our own particular 
interest, even to the extent of daily bread ! 

1 1 i- only, therefore, when our desires are in unison 
with the divine will, that we have reason to expeel a 
direct fulfilment of our requests. And this considera- 
tion i- fraught with much interesting instruction, and 
with great practical comfort in regard to the efficacy 
"l" prayer; for it assures us, thai if we should happen 



130 Resignation. 

to pray in a right spirit, but, from ignorance, should ask 
what is not really good for us, God will not take ad- 
vantage of our ignorance or weakness, so as to visit us 
with a curse when we are seeking a blessing. There 
can be no doubt that, were every desire which we ex- 
press in prayer to meet with a direct and literal fulfil- 
ment, the efficacy of prayer might, through our ignorance 
of what is really for our good, become a source of ca- 
lamity rather than of comfort. As it is related of one 
who, being possessed of great wealth, and having an 
only son, and that son labouring under a very sore 
disease, and being repeatedly counselled to resign him 
into God's hand, and to acquiesce in his appointment, 
even should he be pleased to take him away, did, never- 
theless, so far yield to his natural affections, as reso- 
lutely to refuse any act of submission, and could not 
bring himself to utter one word of acquiescence in such 
a result, and who, many years after, was seen dishonoured 
and beaten in his old age, by that very son whom he 
was so loath to lose, and mourning, in the bitterness of 
his heart, over filial ingratitude and disobedience, as the 
heaviest curse of his gray hairs ! But when our peti- 
tion is limited by acquiescence in the sovereign disposal 
of Almighty God, even should we ask amiss, God will 
neither withhold what is truly good for us, nor give 
what he knows to be bad. And thus the omniscient 
wisdom of God is our security against the effect of our 
own ignorance, or weakness in prayer. 

It is chiefly in reference to external comforts or 



The Well Spring in the Desert. 131 

privileges that we are ignorant of God's will and our 
own interest, for, on that subject, we have no revela- 
tion to guide us ; but for spiritual blessings, in so far as 
these are necessary for the safety of the soul, we have 
;i stronger assurance of an answer, in proportion as we 
have better evidence both of its being God's will to 
bestow, and of its being our interest to receive them. 
It may be doubtful how far God will be pleased to grant, 
or how far it would be for our real welfare to obtain, 
exemption from outward trials or the uninterrupted en- 
joyment of worldly prosperity ; but we know, from 
Scripture, that the blessings of God's grace are of such 
a nature, that Ave must at all times be willing to dis- 
pense them, and that we cannot pray for, or receive 
them, without being substantially benefited. We have 
greater confidence, therefore, of a literal fulfilment of 
our petitions, when we supplicate the grace of a peni- 
tent spirit, than when we pray for a prosperous outward 
estate, since the former must, at all times, be an object 
of complacency to God, and a real blessing to ourselves, 
whereas the latter may be fraught with danger to our 
higher interests, and may, therefore, by unerring wis- 
dom, In' withheld. 

In this \icw, also, our prayers may be really answered, 
: 1 1 1 1 1 < . 1 1 lt 1 1 tin- special evil which we deprecat e is, never- 
theless, inflicted, and the good which we supplicate is, 
nevertheless, withheld. Forwhal is our prayer? Why, 
thai God would deal with us according to the counsels 
of unerring wisdom, and give or withhold according to 



132 



PtE SI GNAT I ON. 



his sovereign will. That being our prayer, it is an- 
swered, even though it should be by crosses. And, in 
this, God magnifies his grace, by bringing the substan- 
tial blessings which we need out of the unlikeliest means, 
nay, out of those very evils which we are most eager to 
avoid. We see, hence, not only that the prayers of his 
people are answered, but that they cannot fail to have 
their fulfilment. For the desires of their hearts are 
going forth in unison with the divine will, and that will 
is omnipotent ! 

In these circumstances, however, the unbelieving 
mind, will be ready to reason against the utility of 
prayer altogether, and to say that God's will, being 
omnipotent, must have its effect, whether we pray or 
no. But, by those who can entertain this idea, it is 
not duly considered, that prayer is in the moral, what 
any other ordinary cause is in the physical world,— a 
means established by God himself,— a link in the grand 
chain of cause and effect, which not only comprehends 
both the physical and moral departments of his govern- 
ment, but combines the two, and establishes a very in- 
timate relation betwixt their several parts, — a cause, in 
fact, which is not less regarded by God than any other 
secondary agent in nature. It might, therefore, with 
the same propriety be affirmed, that God's omnipotent 
will must cause the pre-determined harvest to spring up 
from the earth, without the agency of manual labour, 
as that God's will must cause the fulfilment of such of 
our desires as are in unison therewith, without the 



The Well Spring in the Desert. 133 

agency of prayer. And, be it observed, that even were 
we unable to obviate the difficulty, -we cannot fail, at 
to perceive, that it is founded on a principle di- 
rectly the reverse of that on which our Lord argued ; 
for, so far from regarding the infinite knowledge, or the 
sovereign will, or the almighty power of God, as super- 
seding the necessity of prayer on the part of man, he 
refers to these as the very ground and reason, nay, as 
the strongest motive and encouragement of prayer: 
" For your heavenly Father knoweth that ye have need 
of these things." Were we to act on any other princi- 
ple, -we must virtually declare that we will not pray, 
unless we are allowed to dictate to God, or assured that 
our desires shall overrule the decision of omniscient 
wisdom! 

Even when prayer is not effectual in averting or re- 
moving the evil which we fear or endure, yet it imparts 
to the believing mind the strongest of all consolation, — 
that which arises from the persuasion that God's will 
i< answered by the event, and that any other result 
would have been, in the judgment of unerring wisdom, 
neither so good in itself, nor so beneficial to our real 
interest. 

Besides ii- effeel in averting threatened calamity, or 
procuring positive blessings at the hand of God, prayer 
exercises a beneficial influence on the mind, and thus 
lit- it for suffering, and relieves it when calamity comes. 

Tin- degree of sorrow thai Is occasioned by affliction 
depends a greal deal more on the state of mind in which 



lo4 HE SI (J N ATI ON. 

it funis the sufferer, than on the amount of the calamity 
itself. The same trial which overwhelms one, may he 
sustained with composure and comfort by another, and 
that, too, although both are equally sensitive in their 
feelings. This difference depends on the preparation 
which they have respectively made for the event. If 
the one has been careless, while the other was thought- 
ful, and, above all, if the one has been negligent in 
fortifying his mind by prayer and supplication, while 
the other, under a deep sense of his liability to afflic- 
tion, and his dependence on God, has betaken himself, 
in the exercise of humble trust and confidence, to the 
throne of grace, and has been enabled there to repose 
the burden of his anxieties on the Lord, it cannot but 
be that the latter will feel very differently from the 
former, when the event occurs. And that event, how- 
ever calamitous in itself, will be the less overwhelming 
to him, in proportion as he was the better prepared to 
meet it, and the more accustomed to regard it in con- 
nexion with the will of Him, who is at once the God of 
Providence, and the hearer of prayer. 

And as prayer, offered up in anticipation of suffering, 
puts the soul in a right state of preparation, so, by vir- 
tue of its natural influence, it has the effect of relieving 
the mind of those feelings, which severe calamity, when 
it does come, must, in all cases, in a greater or less de- 
gree, aAvaken. Prayer before affliction, fits the mind 
for suffering ; prayer under affliction, relieves the mind 
of its sorrow. So long as the feelings of the sufferer 



The Well Spring in the Desert. 135 

are restrained and pent up within his own bosom, they 
prey upon his internal peace ; but when they find a 
channel through which they obtain utterance and ex- 
pansion, their depressing power is mitigated, and the 
heart is, in part at least, relieved of its burden. Hence 
excessive grief is often mitigated by copious weeping, — 
much more by communion with a dear and confidential 
friend, — but most of all by prayer, which is the heart's 
communion with God, the best and nearest of friends. 
Those who have witnessed the strong agony of grief, 
occasioned by some sudden and unexpected calamity, 
and have watched, with intense anxiety, its progress 
and results, can best appreciate the benefit of such out- 
lets to human feeling, and they will testify, that so soon 
as the grief of their friend found vent in tears or in free 
conversation, they felt that the worst was already past. 
And, above all, if the sufferer retired to his chamber, 
and, on his bended knees, poured out his soul to God in 
the confidence of prayer, a calm serenity and composure 
ensued, which showed that the crisis was over, and that, 
too, although he may have prayed with strong crying 
and tears. It may be difficult to account for the relief 
which a suffering spirit derives from the gushing of 
tears, unless it be resolved into a natural harmony be- 
the physiology of the body, and the deep emotions 
"I - the mind. It may be difficult, also, in some cases, 
to a--,-,, nut [\,v the relief thai is derived from the mere 
utterance of the heart's fulness into the ear of another, 

unless it In- referred to the prineiple u|" sympathy, whose 



136 Resignation. 

law seems to be, « that it redoubled joys, and cutteth 
griefs in halves; for, as there is no man that impart eth 
his joys to his friend, but he joyeth the more, so there 
is no man that imparteth his griefs to his friend, but 
he grieveth the less."* But, whatever difficulty may 
be felt in ascertaining the reason why such outlets of 
feeling are so proverbially the means of relieving sor- 
row, surely there can be none in accounting for the re- 
lief which a pious mind experiences in unbosoming its 
sorrows in the very presence and ear of its God. For 
there, at his footstool, who dare arraign the wisdom, or 
blame the rectitude, or question the sovereignty of Him 
from whom affliction comes ? In prayer, the mind is 
brought into immediate contact with the Supreme Will ; 
the sovereignty of God is recognised and felt ; the wis- 
dom of his dispensations acknowledged ; and the very 
misery which leads the sufferer to the throne of grace, 
is the means of placing him in a position in which he 
feels that he must adore the divine goodness, and trust 
in it still, notwithstanding all that has occurred, other- 
wise he has neither help nor hope. By the very act 
of bending the knee before his footstool, the Christian 
makes all these- acknowledgments, and gives a practical 
expression of his confidence in God's faithfulness and 
love,— he repairs to God as his friend— a friend that 
will not leave him nor forsake him. And if such 
acknowledgments be made, and such feelings awakened, 
in the hour of prayer, is not his spirit thereby placed 
*Lord Bacon. 



The Well Spring i.v the Desert. 137 

in the best condition for at once procuring the mitiga- 
tion of his sorrow, and improving by the calamity which 
has called it forth ? It is, indeed, wonderful, how the 
mind clears up its views of God's dispensations, while 
engaged in prayer. At first, thick clouds may seem to 
darken his prospect, but, as he proceeds, streaks of 
light break through, and shine in upon his spirit, and, 
" while he sits in darkness, the Lord is a light to him." 
« While David kept silence, his bones waxed old, through 
his roaring all the daylong;" while "he restrained 
prayer, his spirit was straitened;" but no sooner did he 
pour out his heart before God, than he " was compassed 
about with songs of deliverance." In such a case, much 
sorrow may still remain, but the bitterness of grief is 
past. The subdued and humble feeling which affliction 
is designed to produce, and by Which it operates, in 
part, its beneficial results, will characterize the sufferer, 
long after the agony of grief has subsided into calm 
resignation. His soul will no longer resemble the 
troubled sea which cannot rest, but will be like "a 
weaned child." And this wholesome conversion of the 
ment of violent sorrow into the mild virtue of 
suffering affliction with patience, is best produced by the 
agency of prayer. 

Bl OHANAN. 

L8 



138 Resignation. 



Scriptural Selections. 

For a small moment have I forsaken tbee ; but with great mercies 
will I gather thee. 

In a little wrath I hid my face from thee for a moment ; but with 
everlasting kindness will I have mercy on thee, saith the Lord thy 
Redeemer. 

For this is as the waters of Noah unto me : for as I have sworn that 
tbe waters of Noah should no more go over the earth ; so have I sworn 
that I would not be wroth with thee, nor rebuke thee. — Is. lvi. 7 — 10. 

Sing unto the Lord, ye saints of his, and give thanks at the re- 
membrance of his holiness. 

For his anger endureth but a moment ; in his favour is life : weep- 
ing may endure for a night, but joy cometh in the morning. — Ps. 
xxx. 4, 5. 



The Well Spring in the Desert. 189 



The Fountain. 

In that day there shall he a fountain opened to the house of David and to the inhabitants of Jerusale: 
for sin and uncleanness.—ZECH. xm. 1. 

Come to Calvary's holy mountain, 

Sinners ! ruined by the fall ; 
Here a pure and healing fountain 

Flows to you, to me, to all, — 
In a full, perpetual tide, 
Opened when the Saviour died. 

Come, in poverty and meanness, 

Come, defiled without, within ; 
From infection and uncleanncss, 

From the leprosy of sin, 
Wash your robes and make them white ; 
Ye shall walk with God in light. 

Come, in sorrow and contrition, 

Wounded, impotent, and blind ; 
Here the guilty, free remission, 

Here the troubled peace may find : 
Health this fountain will restore; 
He that drinks will thirst no more. 

He that drinks shall live for ever: 

'T is a soul-renewing flood : 
God is faithful — Cod will never 

Break 1 * i - covenant in blood, 
I irhen our Redeemer died, 
Sealed when he was glorified ! 



IV. 
The Weaned Child. 

" Surcl i) I have h-jliavcd and quieted mytelfas a chUd (hat is ucanedoflris mother: my soul is even 
as a weaned child." — Psalm cxxxi. 2. 

THERE are few lessons taught in God's school more 
difficult to learn, and yet, when really learned, more 
blessed and holy, than the lesson of weanedness. The 
heart resembles the vine, which, as it grows, grasps and 
unites its feeble tendrils to every support within its 
reach. Or, it is like the ivy, which climbs and wraps 
itself around some beautiful but decayed and crumbling 
ruin. As our social affections develop and expand, they 
naturally seek a resting place. Travelling, as it were, 
beyond themselves, breathing love and yearning for 
friendship, they go forth seeking some kindred spirit, 
some "second self," upon which they may repose, and 
around which they may entwine. To detach from this 
inordinate, idolatrous clinging to the animate and the 
inanimate creatures and objects of sense, is one grand 
end of God's disciplinary dealings with us in the present 
life. The discovery which we make, in the process of 
his dealings, of the insufficiency and insecurity of the 
things upon which we set our affections, is often acutely 
painful. Like that vine, we find that we grasped a 

support at the root of which the canker-worm was se- 

(140) 



Tee Weaned Child. 141 

cretly feeding, — and presently it fell ! Or, like that 
ivy, we discover that we have been spreading our affec- 
tions around an object which, even while we clung to 
and adored it, was crumbling and falling into dust, — 
and presently it became a ruin ! And what is the grand 
lesson which, by this process, God would teach us ? 
The lesson of iveanedness from all and everything of an 
earthly and a created nature. Thus was David in- 
structed, and this was the result : « Surely I have be- 
haved and quieted myself as a child that is weaned of 
his mother : my soul is even as a weaned child." It 
may be profitable, tried and suffering reader, briefly to 
contemplate this holy state, and then the way by which 
the Lord frequently brings his people into its experi- 
ence. 

Every true believer, whatever may be the degree of 
his grace, is an adopted child of God. It is not the 
amount of his faith, nor the closeness of his resemblance 
to the family, that constitutes his relationship ; it is the 
act of adoption by which his heavenly Father has made 
him his own. If he can only lisp his Father's name, or 
bears but a single feature of likeness to the Divine 
image, he is as much and as really a child of God as 
i whose souls the lineaments arc deeply and 
broadly drawn, and who, with an unfaltering faith, can 
cry, u Abba, Father!" Doubtless there were many of 
feeble faith, of limited experience, and of defective 
knowledge — mere babes in Christ — in the church to 
which the apostle inscribed his letter ; and yet, address- 



142 ^Resignation. 

ing them all, he says, " Behold what manner of love, 
that Ave should be called the sons of God." But it is 
the character of the weaned child we are now to con- 
template. All believers are children, but are all be- 
lievers weaned children ? From what is the child of 
God thus weaned ? 

The first object from which our heavenly Father 
weans his child, is — himself. Of all idols, this he finds 
the hardest to abandon. When man in paradise aspired 
to be as God, God was dethroned from his soul, and the 
creature became as a deity to itself. From that mo- 
ment, the idolatry of self has been the great and uni- 
versal crime of our race, and will continue to be until 
Christ comes to restore all things. In the soul of the 
regenerate, divine grace has done much to dethrone this 
idol, and to reinstate God.' The work, however, is but 
partially accomplished. The dishonoured and rejected 
rival is loath to relinquish his throne, and yield to the 
supreme control and sway of another. There is much 
yet to be achieved before this still indwelling and un- 
conquered foe lays down his weapons in entire subjec- 
tion to the will and the authority of that Saviour whose 
throne and rights he has usurped. Thus, much still 
lingers in the heart which the Spirit has renewed and 
inhabits, of self-esteem, self-confidence, self-seeking, and 
self-love. From all this, our Father seeks to wean us. 
From our own wisdom, which is but folly ; from our own 
strength, which is but weakness ; from our own willsj 
which are often as an uncurbed steed : from our own 



The Weaned Child. 143 

ways, which are crooked ; from our own hearts, which 
are deceitful ; from our own judgments, which are dark ; 
from our own ends, which are narrow and selfish, he 
would wean and detach us, that our souls may get more 
and more hack to their original centre of repose — God 
himself. In view of this mournful exhibition of fallen 
and corrupt self, how necessary the discipline of our 
heavenly Father that extorts from us the Psalmist's 
language : " Surely I have behaved and quieted myself 
as a child that is weaned of his mother." Self did 
seem to be our mother — the fruitful parent of so much 
in our plans and aims and spirit that was dishonouring 
to our God. From this he would gently and tenderly, 
but effectually, wean us, that we may learn to rely upon 
his wisdom, to repose in his strength, to consult his 
honour, and to seek his glory and smile supremely and 
alone. And how effectually is this blessed state at- 
tained when God, by setting us aside in the season of- 
solitude and sorrow, teaches us that he can do with- 
out us. We, perhaps, thought that our rank, or our 
talents, or our influence, or our very presence were 
ill to the advancement of his cause, and that 
some parts of it could not proceed without us! The 
Lord knew otherwise. And so he laid bis hand upon 
U-, and withdrew as from the scene of our labours, and 
duties, and engagements, and ambition, thai he mighl 
bide pride from our hearts — the pride of self-importance. 
Aii.l o. i- ii do mighty attainment in the Christian life 
tii be thru weaned from ourselves? Beloved, if forms 



144 Resignation. 

the root of all other blessings. The moment we learn 
to cease from ourselves— from our own wisdom, and 
power, and importance— the Lord appears and takes us 
up. Then his wisdom is displayed, and his power is put 
forth, and his glory is developed, and his great name 
gets to itself all the praise. It was not until God had 
placed Moses in the cleft of the rock that his glory 
passed by. Moses must be hid, that God might be all. 
Our heavenly Father would also wean us from this 
poor, perishing world. It is true Christ has taken the 
child of God out of, and separated him from, the world ; 
assailed by all its evils, and exposed to all its corrupting 
influences. The intercessory prayer of our Lord seems to 
imply this : " They are not of the world, even as I am not 
of the world. I pray not that thou shouldst take them 
out of the world, but that thou shouldst keep them from 
the evil." And what an evil does the Christian find 
this world to be! In consequence of the earthward 
tendency of his affections, and the deep carnality with 
which the mind is imbued, things which God designed 
as blessings to soothe, and soften, and cheer, become, 
by their absorbing and idolatrous influence, powerful 
snares. Rank is a snare, wealth is a snare, talent is a 
snare, friendship is a snare. Rank may foster pride 
and ambition ; wealth may increase the thirst for worldly 
show ; talent may inspire a love of human applause ; 
and friendship may wean the heart from Christ, and 
betray us into a base and unholy compromise of Christ- 
ian professson. Now from this endangering world our 



The "Weaned Child. 145 

heavenly Father would shield, by withdrawing us. It 
is not our rest, and he agitates it ; it is not our portion, 
and he embitters it ; it is not our friend, and he some- 
times arms it with a sword. It changes, it disappoints, 
it wounds ; and then, thankful to expand our wings, we 
take another and a bolder flight above it. Ah ! beloved, 
how truly may the Lord be now sickening thine heart 
to the world, to which that heart has too long and too 
closely clung. It has been thy peculiar snare ; thy 
Father saw it, and wisely and graciously laid his loving, 
gentle hand upon thee, and led thee away from it, that 
from a bed of sickness, or from a chamber of grief, or 
from some position of painful vicissitude, thou mightest 
see its sinfulness, learn its hollowness, and return as a 
wanderer to thy Father's bosom, exclaiming with David, 
" My soul is even as a ivcaned child." 

This weanedness, of which we speak, often involves 
the surrender of some endeared object of creature affec- 
tion. The human heart is naturally idolatrous. Its 
affections, as we have previously remarked, once su- 
premely centered in God. But now, disjoined from 
liiin. tliey go in quest of other objects of attachment, 
and we love and worship the creature rather than the 
Creator. The circle which our affections traverse may 
not indeed be a large one; there are perchance bui IV w 
to whom we fully surrender our heart; nay, so circum- 
BCribed may the circle be, that one object alone BhaU 
attract, absorb, and concentrate in itself our entire and 
Undivided love — that one object to us as a universe of 
1!) 



140 Resignation. 

beings, and all others comparatively indifferent and in- 
sipid. Who cannot see that in a case like this, the 
danger is imminent of transforming the heart — Christ's 
own sanctuary — into an idol's temple, where the crea- 
ture is loved and reverenced and served more than He 
who gave it ? But from all idolatry our God will 
cleanse us, and from all our idols Christ will wean us. 
The Lord is jealous, with a holy jealousy, of our love. 
Poor as our affection is, he asks its supreme surrender. 
That he requires our love at the expense of all creature 
attachment, the Bible nowhere intimates. He created 
our affections, and he it is who provides for their proper 
and pleasant indulgence. There is not a single precept 
or command in the Scriptures that forbids their exer- 
cise, or that discourages their intensity. Husbands are 
exhorted to " love their wives, even as Christ loved his 
church." Parents arc to cherish a like affection towards 
their children, and children are bound to render back a 
filial love not less intense to their parents. And we 
are to "love our neighbours as ourselves." Nor does 
the word of God furnish examples of Christian friend- 
ship less interested and devoted. One of the choicest 
and tenderest blessings with which God can enrich us, 
next to himself, is such a friend as Paul had in Epaphro- 
ditus, a "brother and companion in labour, and fellow- 
soldier;" and such an affectionate friendship as John, 
the loving disciple, cherished for his well beloved Gains, 
whom he loved in the truth, and to whom, in the season 
of his sickness, he thus touchingly poured out his heart's 



The Weaned Child. 147 

affectionate sympathy: "Beloved, I wish above all 
things that thou mayest prosper and be in health, even 
as thy soul prospereth." Count such a friend, and such 
friendship, amongst God's sweetest and holiest bestow- 
ments. The blessings of which it may be to you the 
sanctifying channel, are immense. The tender sympa- 
thy — the jealous watchfulness — the confidential repose 
— the faithful admonition — above all, the intercessory 
prayer, connected with Christian friendship, may be 
placed in the inventory of our most inestimable and 
precious blessings. It is not therefore the use, but the 
abuse, of our affections — not their legitimate exercise, 
but their idolatrous tendency — over which we have need 
to exercise the greatest vigilance. It is not our love to 
the creature against which God contends, but it is in 
not allowing our love to himself to subordinate all other 
love. "We may love the creature, but we may not love 
the creature more than the Creator. When the Giver 
is lost sight of and forgotten in the gift, then comes the 
painful process of weaning ! When the heart burns its 
incense before some human shrine, and the cloud as it 
ascends veils from the eye the beauty and the excellence 
of Jesus, — then comes the painful process of weaning ! 
When the absorbing claims and the engrossing atten- 
tions i)f some loved one are placed in competition, and 
are allowed to dash with the claims of God, and the at- 
tentions due from ns personally to his cause and truth, 

— tlnn comes the painful process of weaning! When 

creature devotion deadens our heart to the Lord, lessens 



148 Resignation. 

our interest in his cause, congeals our zeal and love and 
liberality, detaches us from the public means of grace, 
withdraws from the closet, and from the Bible, and 
from the communion of the saints, thus superinducing 
leanness of soul, and robbing God of his glory, — then 
comes the painful process of weaning ! Christ will be 
the first in our affections — God will be supreme in our 
service — and his kingdom and righteousness must take 
precedence of all other things. In this light, beloved, 
read the present mournful page in your history. The 
noble oak that stood so firm and stately at thy side, is 
smitten, — the tender and beautiful vine that wound 
itself around thee, is fallen, — the lowly and delicate 
flower that lay upon thy bosom, is withered — the olive 
branches that clustered around thy table, are removed 
— and the "strong staff is broken and the beautiful 
rod;" not because thy God did not love thee, but 
because he desired thine heart. He saw that heart 
ensnared and enslaved by a too fond and idolatrous affec- 
tion, — he saw his beauty eclipsed and himself rivalled 
by a faint and imperfect copy of his own image, and he 
breathed upon it, and it withered away ! " The day of 
the Lord of hosts shall be upon all . . . pleasant pic- 
tures." When an eminent artist, who had concentrated 
all the powers of his genius upon a painting of our Lord 
celebrating the last supper, observed that the holy 
vessels arranged in the foreground were admired to the 
exclusion of the chief object of the picture, he seized his 
brush and dashed them from the canvass, and left the 



The "Weaned Child. 149 

image of Jesus standing in its own solitary and unrivalled 
beauty. Thus deals our God oftentimes -with us. 
solemn words ! " The day of the Lord of hosts shall 
be upon all ... . pleasant pictures," — all pictures 
that veil and eclipse the beauties of him who is the 
" brightness of the Father's glory, and the express 
image of his person," God will obliterate. 

Filial submission to Grod's will, is, perhaps, one of 
the most essential features in this holy state of weaned- 
ness of which we speak. " Surely I have behaved and 
quieted myself as a child that is weaned of his mother." 
There are some beautiful examples of this in God's word. 
" And Aaron held his peace." Since God was "sanc- 
tified and glorified," terrible as was the judgment, the 
holy priest mourned not at the way, nor complained of 
its severity, patient and resigned to the will of God. 
He "behaved and quieted himself as a child that is 
weaned of his mother." Thus, too, was it with Eli, 
when passing under the heavy hand of God : " It is the 
Lord; let him do what seemeth him good." He bowed 
in deep submission to the will of his God. Job could 
exclaim, as the last sad tidings brimmed his cup of woe, 
" The Lord gave, and the Lord hath taken away ; 
blessed be the name of the Lord." And David was 
•• dumb :ni'l opened not his mouth, because God did it." 
But how do all these instances of filial and holy submis- 
sion to the Divine will — beautiful and touching as they 
an — fade before the illustrious example of our adorable 

and blessed Lord: "0 my Father, if this cup may cot 



150 Resignation. 

pass away from me, except I drink it, thy will be done.*' 
Ah ! how did Jesus, in the deepest depth of his unuttera- 
ble sorrow, " behave and quiet himself as a child that is 
weaned of his mother ? his soul was even as a weaned 
child." Such, beloved, be the posture of thy soul at 
this moment. " Be still." Rest in thy Father's hands, 
calm and tranquil, quiet and submissive, weaned from 
all but himself. the blessedness of so reposing ! 

" Sweet to lie passive in his bands, 
And know no will but bis." 

" God's love !" It is written upon your dark cloud 
— it breathes from the lips of your bleeding wound — it 
is reflected in every fragment of your ruined treasure — 
it is pencilled upon every leaf of your blighted flower — 
" God is love." Adversity may have impoverished 
you — bereavement may have saddened you — calamity 
may have crushed you — sickness may have laid you low 
— but, "God is love." Gently falls the rod in its 
heaviest stroke — tenderly pierces the sword in its deep- 
est thrust — smilingly bends the cloud in its darkest hues 
— for, " God IS love." Does the infant, weaned from 
its wonted and pleasant fount, cease from its restless- 
ness and sorrow, reposing calmly and meekly upon its 
mother's arms ? — so let thy soul calmly, submissively 
rest in God. How sweet the music which then will 
breathe from thy lips in the midnight of grief: " Surely 
I have behaved and quieted myself as a child that is 
weaned of his mother : my soul is even as a weaned child." 

And A\*ho can bring you into this holy position ? The 



The Weaned Child. 151 

Holy Spirit alone can. It is his office to lead you to 
Jesus — to reveal to you Jesus — to exhibit to your eye the 
cross of Jesus — to pour into your heart the grace and love 
and sympathy of Jesus — to bend your will and bow your 
heart to the government of Jesus, and thus make you as a 
weaned child. The work infinitely transcends a power 
merely human. It is the office and the prerogative of the 
Divine Spirit — the « Spirit of holiness" — who only can 
sever between flesh and spirit, to bring you into the 
condition of one whose will in all things is completely 
merged in God's. And what is his grand instrument 
of effecting this ? The cross of Christ ! Ah ! this is it. 
The ckoss of Christ ! Not the cross as it appeared 
to the imagination of the Mahomedan Chief, leading the 
imperial army to battle and to conquest ; not the cross 
pictured — the cross engraved — the cross carved — the 
cross embroidered — the cross embossed upon the prayer- 
book, pendant from the maiden's neck, glittering on the 
cathedral's spire, and springing from its altar: not the 
cross as blended with a religion of Gothic architecture, 
and painted windows, and flaming candles, and waving 
incense, and gorgeous pictures, and melting music, and 
flattering surplices': no ! but the cross — the naked, 
rugged cross — which Calvary reared, which Paul 
preached, and of which he wrote, "God forbid that I 
Bhould glory Bave in the cross of our Lord Jesus Christ, 
by which* the world is crucified unto me, and I unto 

•■ Whereby." See versions of Tyndale, Cranmer, und Geneva, as 
collated Id !'■ I b Eezapla. 



152 Resignation. 

the world." Faith, picturing to its view this cross, the 
Holy Spirit engraving it on the heart in spiritual 
regeneration, the whole soul receiving him whom it lifts 
up, as its "wisdom, and righteousness, and sanctifica- 
tion, and redemption," gently and effectually transforms 
the spirit, that was chafened and restless, into the 
"meekness and gentleness of Christ." what calm- 
ness steals over his ruffled soul ! what peace flows 
into his troubled heart ! what sunshine bathes in its 
bright beams, his dark spirit, who from the scenes of 
his conflict and his sorrow, flees beneath the shadow 
and the shelter of the cross. The storm ceases — the 
deluge of his grief subsides — the Spirit, dove-like, brings 
the message of hope and love — the soul, tempest-tossed, 
rests on the green mount, and one unbounded spring 
clothes and encircles the landscape with its verdure and 
its beauty. Child, chastened by the Father's love, look 
to the cross of your crucified Saviour. And as you fix 
upon it your believing, ardent, adoring gaze, exclaim — 

"Wearily for me thou soughtest, 
On the cross my soul thou boughtest ; 
Lose not all for which thou wroughtest." 

What is thy sorrow compared with Christ's ? What 
is thy grief gauged by the Lord's ? Thy Master has 
passed before thee, flinging the curse and the sin from 
thy path, paving it with promises, carpeting it with 
love, and fencing it around with the hedge of his divine 
perfections. Press onward, then, resisting thy foe 



The Weaned Child. 153 

resolutely, bearing thy cross patiently, drinking thy 
cup submissively, and learning, -while sitting at the 
Saviour's feet, or leaning upon his bosom, to be like 
him, "meek and lowly in heart." Then, indeed, shall 
"I have behaved and quieted myself as a child that is 
weaned of his mother : my soul is even as a weaned 
child." 

WlNSLOW. 

20 



154 Resignation. 



Scriptural Selections. 

Blessed is the man that endureth temptation : for when he is tried 
he shall receive the crown of life, which the Lord hath promised to 
them that love him. — James, i. 12. 

But the God of all grace, who hath called us unto his eternal glory 
by Christ Jesus, after that ye have suffered a while, make you perfect, 
stablish, strengthen, settle you: 

To him be glory and dominion for ever and ever. Amen. — 1 Pet. 
v. 10, 11. 

So then they that are in the flesh cannot please God. — Rom. viii. 8. 

For which cause we faint not ; but though our outward man perish, 
yet the inward man is renewed day by day. 

For our light affliction, which is but for a moment, worketh for us 
a far more exceeding and eternal weight of glory ; 

"While we look not at the things which are seen, but at the things 
which are not seen : for the things which are seen are temporal ; but 
the things which are not seen are eternal. — 2 Cor. iv. 16 — 18. 



The Weaned Child. J 55 



Glory in Affliction. 

Jesus, I my cross have taken, 

All to leave and follow thee ; 
Naked, poor, despised, forsaken, 

Thou, from hence, my all shalt be : 
Perish every fond ambition, 

All I've sought, or hoped, or known, 
Yet how rich is my condition, 

God and heaven are still my own. 

Let the world despise and leave me, 

They have left my Saviour too ; 
Human hearts and looks deceive me, 

Thou art not, like them, untrue : 
And whilst thou shalt smile upon me, 

God of wisdom, love, and might, 
Foes may hate, and friends may scorn me, 

Show thy face, and all is bright. 

Go, then, earthly fame and treasure, 

Come disaster, scorn, and pain, 
In thy Bervice pain is pleasure, 

With thy favour hiss is gain : 
I have called thee, Abba, Father, 

I have set my hearl on thee, 
Storms may imu'i, and clouds may gather, 

All mi >r work for g I i" me. 



156 



Resignation. 



Man may trouble and distress me, 

'Twill but drive me to thy breast, 
Life with trials hard may press me, 

Heaven will bring me sweeter rest: 
Oh ! 'tis not in grief to harm me, 

While thy love is left to me, 
Oh ! 'twere not in joy to charm me, 

"Were that joy unmixed with thee. 

Soul, then know thy full salvation, 

Rise o'er sin, and fear, and care, 
Joy to find in every station, 

Something still to do and bear: 
Think what spirit dwells within thee ; 

Think what Father's smiles are thine, 
Think that Jesus died to save thee : 

Child of heaven, canst thou repine ? 

Haste thee on from grace to glory, 

Armed by faith, and winged by prayer, 
Heaven's eternal days before thee ; 

God's own hand shall guide thee there : 
Soon shall close thy earthly mission, 

Soon shall pass thy pilgrim days, 
Hope shall change to glad fruition, 

Faith to sight, and prayer to praise. 






COMFOKT. 



i. 

The Kepuge from the Storm. 

MEN, in great straits, when they are not able to 
make defence against pursuing enemies, run to their 
hiding place, as the Israelites did from the Philistines. 
" When the men of Israel saw that they were distressed, 
they hid themselves in caves, in thickets, in rocks, in 
high places, and in pits," 1 Sam. xiii. 6 ; and so God's 
children, when they are too weak for their enemies, seek 
a safe and sure hiding place: "A prudent man fore- 
seeth the evil, and hidcth himself," Prov. xxii. 8; cer- 
tainly there is a hiding place for God's children, if we 
bad but the wisdom to find it out — and where is it but 
in God? "Lord, thou art my hiding place, thou shalt 
preserve me from trouble." So again — "In the time 
of trouble be Bhall bide me in his pavilion ; in the secret 
of lii.^ tabernacle shall he hide me: he shall set me upon 
,i rock," Psalm xxvii. 5. God's protection of his people 
cret, hidden mystery, as everything thai pertains 
. ' (159) 



160 Comfort. 

unto God is to the carnal man. The person hidden is 
seen abroad every day following his business — serving 
his generation — doing that work which God hath given 
him to do, yet is he hidden, while he is seen, by the 
secret power and love of God dispensing all things for 
his protection, the man is kept safe by ways which the 
world knows not of. " Thou shalt hide him in the 
secret of thy presence from the pride of man," Psalm 
xxxi. 20. There is a secret power of God by which his 
people are upheld and maintained by one means or 
another, which they see not, and cannot find out. So 
there is that in God, that we may trust him with our 
souls, with our bodies, with our peace, with our goods, 
with our good name, with our all; all that concerns us 
between this and the day of judgment, as St. Paul did 
— "I know whom I have believed, and I am persuaded 
that he is able to keep that which I have committed 
unto him against that day." His soul and all the con- 
cerns of it he durst trust in the hands of God. Our 
soul is much sought after ; Satan, that hath lost the 
favour of God himself, envies that others should enjoy 
it, therefore he pursues God's people with great malice 
and power ; but let them put it into the hands of God, 
he is able to keep it. And so for outward things this 
hiding place is large enough for all Ave have. » Thou 
shalt keep them secretly as in a pavilion, from the strife 
of tongues." As the hearts of men are in the hands 
of God, so are their tongues, Exod. xi. 7. There is 
the same reason why we should trust God in all things, 



The Refuge from the Storm. 161 

as when we trust him for one thing. And indeed, did 
we truly, and on scripture grounds, trust him for one 
thine, -we should trust him for all. If we did trust him 
with our souls, we should without anxious care trust 
him with our bodies, our secular interests and concerns 
also. There is safety till the trouble is over, and we 
may be kept as quiet in God, as if there was no danger. 
« Under the shadow of thy wings will I make my refuge 
until these calamities are overpast," Psalm lvii. 1. 
There is an allusion to the chicken under the hen's wing: 
— -when hawks or birds of prey are abroad, that are 
ready to seize upon them with their talons, they run to 
the hen's wings, and there they are safe. " Come, my 
people, enter thou into thy chambers, and shut the 
doors about thee: hide thyself as it were for a little 
moment, until the indignation be overpast," Isaiah xxvi. 
20. Here Ave have an allusion to a storm which is soon 
over ; it is as a little cloud, that will easily be blown 
over ; but in the mean time here is a covert and defence. 
The use of God's protection and love is best known in 
a time of straits and difficulties. There is not only 
safety, but comfort also. Christians, it is not a dead 
refuge or hiding place, but, as the Psalmist says, "None 
of fchem who trust in God shall be desolate," Psalm 
xxxiv. -11. There are sweet support, spiritual experi- 
ence, and inward comforts ; so that a believer, that is 
hidden in the secret of God's presence, fares belter than 
all those who have the world at their command, and go 
on in ease ami plenty, if we judge of his condition by 
-1 



102 Comfort. 

spiritual considerations. And not only will He be his 
protection, but He will be a sun, as well as a shield, 
Psalm lxxxiv. 11. As a "shield," he will keep off all 
dangers from us ; as a "sun," he will give all things 
that belong to our blessedness ; " He will give grace 
and glory." The word of God shows not only what 
God can do herein, but what he will do for our sakes. 
To Abraham, God said, " I am thy shield and thy 
exceeding great reward," Gen. xv. 1. Abraham might 
be under some dread that the kings he had lately 
vanquished would work him some trouble, and then God 
comes and appears to him and comforts him, and says 
to him, "Fear not, I am thy shield." Here then we 
may rest ; for where else can we hope to find a resting 
place but in the arms of God's protection — in his 
attributes, promises, and providences ? His word in- 
vites us so to make use of God — to enter into Him as 
a covert from the storm, while it seems to rage, and be 
likely to overwhelm us. " He that dwelleth in the 
secret place of the Most High shall abide under the 
shadow of the Almighty," Psalm cxi. 1. He that 
committeth himself to God shall not be thrust out, but 
shall be suffered to dwell there, and enjoy the benefit 
of a covert and defence ; we have this assurance repeated 
again and again in Scripture. " Every word of God is 
pure ; he is a shield unto them that put their trust m 
him," Prov. xxx. 5. Do not think these are careless 
expressions, dropped into the word of God by chance , 
Oh no ! they are the sure and pure words of the Lord 



The Refuge from the Storm. 163 

himself, that will yield comfort, peace, and happiness, 
to them that flee unto him : — it is only to trust and to 
have. If you will glorify God by trusting him, and 
depend upon him according to his word, you will find 
it to be so. We miss of our protection and defence by 
our doubts, unbelief, and distrust of God. All those 
that in time of danger are duly sensible of it, and make 
use of God as their refuge and hiding place, shall find 
him to be that to them, "which their faith expects from 
him. There is a keeping of the outward man, and a 
keeping of the inward man. As to the outward man, 
" all things come alike to all," Eccles. ix. 2 ; the 
Christian is safe, whatever becomes of the man ; the 
Lord will keep him to his heavenly kingdom, 2 Tim. iv. 
17, 18. What the Christian desires mainly to be kept 
is his soul, that he may not miscarry — blemish his pro- 
fession, and dishonour God. I say, we cannot absolutely 
expect temporal safety. The righteous are liable to 
many troubles, Psalm xxxiv. 19, therefore, in temporal 
things, God will not keep off the temporal stroke, but 
leave us to many uncertainties, or at least hold us in 
doubt about it, that we may trust his goodness. When 
we i rust God we may trust all his attributes, not only 
hie power, that he is able to preserve, but his goodness, 
that be will do what is best for us, that there may be 
;i submission and a referring all to bis will. God will 
certainly make good his promise, but this trust lies not 
in an ab-ulii!r certainty of success as to temporal things. 

Eowever, this Bhould not discourage us from making 



164 Comfort. 

God our refuge, because promises of better things are 
sure enough, and God's keeping us in suspense about 
other things is no evidence he will not afford them to 
us ; it is his usual course (and few instances can be 
given to the contrary) to have a special regard to his 
trusting servants, and to hide them secretly. They, that 
know His name, will find that he hath never forsaken 
them that put their trust in him, Psalm ix. 10. It is 
the only sure way to be safe ; whereas, to perplex our 
souls Avith distrust, even about these outward things, 
dishonours God's faithfulness, and is the way to bring 
ruin upon ourselves. You see then what respect the 
word hath to this privilege, that God is a shield and 
a hiding place. The word discovers God under these 
figures, the word invites and encourages us to put God 
to this use, the word assures us of his divine protection, 
it directs us to the qualification of the persons that shall 
enjoy this privilege, " They that can trust God ;" and 
it directeth us to expect the blessing, not with absolute 
confidence of success, but in humble submission to his 
will. This quiets the heart in waiting God's leisure. 
" Our soul waiteth for the Lord, he is our help and 
our shield," Psalm xxxiii. 2G. If so, then faith is 
quietly to wait God's leisure ; till he send deliverance, 
his promise must bear up our hearts, and we must be 
contented to tarry his time, — our impatience must not 
make us outrun God. This will fortify the heart against 
present difficulties. When all visible helps are cut off, yet 
may we encourage ourselves in the Lord. When Israel 



The Refuge from the Storm. 165 

were wandering in the wilderness, and had neither house 
nor home, then Moses, that man of God, pens that Psalm, 
» Lord, thou hast been our dwelling place in all genera- 
tions," Psalm ex. 1. What was wanting to sense, they 
saw made up in the all-sufficiency of God. And here is 
the use of faith, when in defiance of all difficulties, we 
can see an all-sufficiency in God to counterbalance that 
which is wanting to sense. " Lord, thou art my shield 
and glory, and the lifter up of my head," Psalm iii. 3. 
David wrote this psalm when he was driven from his 
palace by his son Absalom ; when he was in danger, 
God was his shield ; when his kingdom and honour were 
laid in the dust, God was his glory ; when he was under 
sorrow and shame, and enemies insulting over him; 
when the people rose against him, and he was in great 
dejection of spirit, » God was the lifter up of his head." 
This is getting under the covert of this shield, or within 
the compass of this hiding place : « Into thy hands I 
commit my spirit, for thou hast redeemed me, Lord 
God of truth," Psalm xxxi. 5. David was then in 
great danger, the net was laid for him, as he said in a 
former verse, and when he was likely to perish, what 
dwi'- Ik; do? he casts all his care upon God, and trusts 
him with his life, his safety : " Into thy hands I commit 
my spirit." 

The ase of faith is to quicken us to go on cheerfully 
in our path, and with a quiel hear! resting on God's 

love, power, and truth. To persuade us to ceil eiil incut 

in a time of trouble, though our condition be nol what 



166 Comfort. 

we desire, yet if we have but a hiding place, if God 
vouchsafe us a little liberty in our service, Ave ought to 
be content, if he will give us safety though not plenty, 
— for here is not our rest. God never undertook in his 
covenant to maintain us in such a state, nor thus to 
enlarge our earthly portion ; if he will vouchsafe a little 
peace and safety to us during the time of our pilgrimage, 
we ought to be content. And unless God be our hiding 
place, the strongest defences in the world are not enough 
to keep us from danger. All the shifts we run into 
will only entangle us the more, drive us farther from 
God, and to greater suffering. Many thus run away 
from God's protection, and seek out means of safety 
for themselves ; thus they do but plunge themselves into 
troubles so much the more ; there is much sin and 
danger in departing from God ; he can soon blast our 
confidences. God will blast our carnal shifts, Jer. xvii. 
15 — 18. No hurt can come to us without God's leave. 
No creature can move or stir, not only but by God's per- 
mission, but by his influence : others may have a will to 
hurt us, but not the power, unless given them from 
above, as Christ told Pilate. Satan is a raging adver- 
sary against the people of God, but he is forced to ask 
leave before he can touch either Job's goods or his 
person ; he could not touch his skin, nor anything that 
belonged to him, without permission from God, Job, i. 
Nay, he must ask leave to enter into the herd of swine, 
Matt. viii. 31. Constantly then, make use of God. You 
may think this advice not needed by you, because you are 



The Kefuge from the Storm. 167 

at present out of fears and dangers ; but what saith the 
scripture ? "Be not high-minded but fear," — and again, 
"Blessed is the man that feareth always." Are you 
not constantly to make use of God, whether your state 
be well or ill, and to live upon God at all times ? All our 
comforts are from God, as well as our support in trouble. 
Certainly, he that lives upon God in prosperity, will 
live upon him in adversity. Oh ! when you are at ease 
and abound in all things, and consider Him as the 
author of all your happiness, and the giver of all your 
gifts, you will learn better to make Him your refuge 
when all things fail. But he that lives upon the crea- 
ture in prosperity, when the creature fails will be in 
utter distress, and know not which way to turn for 

comfort, Jer. xvii. 13, 14. 

Leigiiton. 



168 Comfort. 



Scriptural Selections. 

The eternal God is thy refuge, and underneath are the everlasting 
arms. — Deut. xxxiii. 27. 

And he said, The Lord is my rock, and my fortress, and my de- 
liverer ; 

The God of my rock ; in him will I trust : he is my shield, and the 
horn of my salvation, my high towei-, and my refuge, my saviour ; 
thou savest me from violence. 

I will call on the Lord, who is worthy to be praised : so shall I be 
saved from mine enemies. 

When the waves of death compass me, the floods of ungodly men 
made me afraid ; 

The sorrows of hell compassed me about ; the snares of death pre- 
vented me. 

In my distress I called upon the Loi'd, and cried to my God ; and 
he did hear my voice out of his temple, and my cry did enter into his 
ears. — 2 Saml. xxii. 2-7. 

The Lord also will be a refuge for the oppressed, a refuge in times 
of trouble. 

And they that know thy name will put their trust in thee : for 
thou, Lord, hast not forsaken them that seek thee. — Ps. ix. 9, 10. 

Be merciful unto me, God, be merciful unto me ; for my soul 
trusteth in thee: yea, in the shadow of thy wings will I make my 
refuge, until these calamities be overpast. — Ps. lvii. 1. 

In God is my salvation and my glory : the rock of my strength, and 
my refuge is in God. — Ps. lxii. 7. 

Lord, my strength, and my fortress, and my refuge in the day 
of affliction, the Gentiles shall come unto thee from the ends of the 
earth. — Jer. xvi. 19. 



The Kefuge from the Storm. 



169 



Jesus our Hiding Place. 

When God's right arm is bared for war. 
And thunders clothe his cloudy car, 
Where, where, oh where! shall man retire, 
To escape the horrors of his ire ? 

'Tis he, the Lamb, to whom we fly, 
While the dread tempest passes by; 
God sees his well-beloved's face, 
And spares us in our hiding place. 

Thus, while we dwell in this low scene, 
The Lamb is our unfailing screen ; 
To him, though guilty, still we run, 
And God still spares us for his Son. 

While yet we sojourn here below, 
Pollutions still our hearts o'erflow ; 
Fallen, abject, mean, a sentenced race, 
We deeply need a hiding place. 

Yet courage — days and years will glide, 
And we .shall lay these clods aside; 
Shall be baptized in Jordan's flood, 
And trashed in Jesus' cleansing blood. 



22 



Then pure, immortal, sinless, freed, 
We, through the Lamb, Bhall be decn ed 
Shall meet the Father face to face, 
And need do more a biding place. 



II. 

The Rainbow; or, Covenant Promises Seen 

through Tears. 

" I do tct my Sow in the cloud."— GENEsrs, ix. 13. 
'•And there was a Kami,;,- fund aoaut the Throne."— Kev. IV. 3. 

WE have joined together the two extremes of Holy 
\V r it_yoked in one text passages from Genesis 
and from Revelations— placed beside each other as 
kindred truths, sentences written by Moses and by 
John ; one, relating to the old world more than forty- 
three centuries ago, and the other, referring to a scene 
in that « new heavens and new earth wherein dwelleth 
righteousness," which is yet to be revealed. 

Thus beautifully harmonizes the whole Word of God. 
Thus are its beginning and ending made to meet and 
form one circle of truth, having Christ for its centre, 
and Infinitude for its circumference. Nor need we 
wonder at this unity of purpose, thought, language, and 
doctrine : it was all dictated by the same Divine Spirit, 
it is all occupied with the same Divine salvation, and 
its united aim is to advance the glory of God, and the 
redemption of man. 

The passages quoted at the head of this chapter, 
introduce to our notice two striking, sublime, and at 

(170) 



The Rainbow. 171 

the same time symbolical scenes, in each of which we 
have a personal interest, and both commend themselves 
to our earnest attention. 

The first carries us back to the morning of the post- 
diluvial world. 

The Deluge had ceased, " The fountains also of the 
deep and the windows of heaven were stopped, and the 
rain from heaven was restrained." 

The ark containing the eight survivors of the old 
world rested on Mount Ararat, the dove had been sent 
forth, and, after returning with an olive leaf in her beak, 
was again let go, and came back no more. The land 
became dry, the covering of the ark was removed, and 
Noah and his family went out of their floating habita- 
tion, and stood once more on the firm dry earth, the 
fons et origo of a new generation. The pious patriarch 
built an altar to the Lord, and the sweet savour of 
his sacrifice rose up acceptably to heaven, and God 
returned to the worshippers promises of rest and 
peace. 

But God did more than merely give a promise. He 
entered into a formal covenant with Noah and his sons, 
the purport of which was, that "all flesh should not be 
cut off any more by the waters of a flood ; neither shall 
there any more be a flood to destroy the earth." This 
covenant was ratified by a seal of signal beauty and 
expressiveness: "And God said, This is the token of 
the covenant which I make between me and yon, and 
every Living creature that is with you, for perpetual 



172 Comfort. 

generations. I do set my bow in the cloud, and it shall 
be for a token of a covenant between me and the earth. 
And it shall come to pass, when I bring a cloud over 
the earth, that the bow shall be seen in the cloud 
* * * * and I will look upon it, that I may remember 
the everlasting covenant." 

A few days, perhaps, after this solemn transaction, 
there is seen a gathering of clouds in the heavens, the 
sky is quite overcast, the dark masses roll in inter- 
mingling convolutions, the wind rises and sweeps down 
the mountain gorges — the big drops of rain fall with a 
heavy patter, the thunder mutters its distant warnings, 
and all conspire to fill their minds with terror and 
alarm. They recall the scene a few months back, when 
the first waters of the deluge fell, and the first of the 
fountains of the great deep was broken up ; and a secret 
and unwillingly-admitted fear steals into their minds, 
lest perchance another storm may sweep them from 
the earth. But it is only for a moment ; they think of 
God's promise, they remember his covenant, and, lo ! as 
they gaze upon the dark clouds, they discern delicate tints 
and particoloured stripes, acquiring each moment more 
perfect brilliancy and form, until the whole eastern sky 
is spanned by the seven-listed bow of promise ; and, as 
they look upon the beautiful arch, they recall the cove- 
nant of God, and rejoice in the assurance of safety 
thus vouchsafed, beholding, as they do, upon the very 
storm which created alarm, the seal and signet-ring 
of a covenant-keeping God. 



The Rainbow. 173 

As a token of God's gracious assurance it is very 
peculiar. It never appears but at the time when the 
rain is falling, and hence, viewed in itself, is rather a 
ground of apprehension than of peace. But God has 
chosen that to be a pledge of our security, which is, in 
itself, an intimation of our danger, that our trust might 
be, not in any change of terrestrial arrangements, but 
in the simple word of God, a pledge repeated to us by 
each new-born rainbow, as it carries our thoughts back 
to the days of Noah, and the covenant token then first 
pointed out. Look then upon the rainbow, whenever 
it appears in its particoloured glory, and praise Him 
who set it in the clouds as the perpetual token of his 
covenant love. "Very beautiful is it in the brightness 
thereof, it compasseth the whole heaven with glory, 
and the hands of the Most High have bended it." 

But another rainbow is spoken of in the Bible. St. 
John opens his Apocalypse with the announcement " I 
was in the Spirit : and, behold a throne was set in heaven, 
and one sat on the throne. And he that sat was to look 
upon like a jasper and a sardine stone : and there was 
a rainbow round about the throne, in sight like unto an 
emerald." The rainbow is not introduced here as a mere 
ornament, but as a most expressive emblem. Our eye 
is first directed to the throne, that habitation, as the 
Psalmisl terms it, of justice and judgment, and to the 
majestic appearance of Him -who sat upon it, compared 
here to I wo precious stones, the jasper and the Bardius, 
or carnelian ; the jasper, as we gather from other pas- 



174 



Comfort. 



sages, representing the essential holiness, and the 
sardius, or blood-red carnelian, the punitive justice of 
God, which declares "without the shedding of blood 
there is no remission of sin." 

Lest, however, we should be repelled by this holi- 
ness of God, and overawed by his retributive justice, 
there is also seen, overarching this throne and Him 
who sits upon it, a rainbow, the symbol of grace re- 
turning after wrath, to testify of God's covenant of 
mercy in Christ Jesus. It is said to be a rainbow in 
sight like unto an emerald, because to the eye of the 
holy apostle green was the predominating colour, and 
green is of all colours the most refreshing and agree- 
able. 

We may not, we cannot, look with unblinking eye 
upon the jasper-like holiness of Jehovah, for it is that 
dazzling glory which, filling heaven with its effulgence, 
causes it to have " no need of the sun or the moon to 
lighten it." We may not, we cannot, gaze upon the 
blood-red sardius-like justice of the Almighty, for the 
lurid glare would scorch the eyeballs of the mind with 
its scenes of burning and deserved wrath. But we 
may and can look upon the heavenly bow, " in sight like 
unto an emerald," and the great sign and seal of this cove- 
nant of grace, hung up over the throne of heaven, where 
" He who sitteth upon the throne" can ever look at it, 
and ever repeat to his children the promise, " For the 
mountains shall depart and the hills be removed, but 
my kindness shall not depart from thee, neither shall 



The Rainbow. 



175 



the covenant of my peace be removed, saith the Lord 
that hath mercy on thee." 

What beautiful imagery Scripture employs in ex- 
hibiting the truths of God ! Were we so familiar with 
the figurative language of the Bible, as to be reminded 
of blissful truths every time we beheld those objects, 
which have been employed to illustrate sacred ideas, 
how would it invest the material world with new beauty, 
and paint every picture of nature in the hues of heaven ! 
The sun, would then ever tell us of Christ, « the light of 
the world;" and the moon, of the Church, deriving all her 
brightness from "the sun of righteousness:" the well 
spring would speak in sparkling language of the "foun- 
tain of cleansing" set open in Jerusalem ; and the river 
of that stream of "living water, clear as crystal, flowing 
out from the throne of God and the Lamb :" the grass 
would preach to us of the frailty of man, " to-day grow- 
ing up, to-morrow cut down and withered;" and the 
"lily of the field," beautifully set forth the protecting 
care of the Almighty. 

Our Lord drew illustrations of his doctrine from the 
stars, the sea, the birds, the fishes, the clouds, the 
fields ; and the Holy Ghost has used the forms and 
changes of the visible world to body forth eternal 
truths; so thai we may truly say that God has made 
nature the eloquent expounder and advocate of revela- 
tion. When, therefore, we employ Buoh a striking 
emblem as tin' rainbow tosel forth some of the precious 

truths of God, we air but following in the track of 



176 CO 31 FORT. 

Scripture, and using God's own covenant seal to illus- 
trate God's own promises. 

The rainbow is made up of seven colours, caused by the 
different angles at which the light is refracted and reflect- 
ed from the falling drops of rain. The conditions under 
which it can be seen are, that there must be rain falling 
at the time ; that there must be sunlight at the time ; 
and that the beholder must be between the two. Let 
us look, then, if we can see on the dark and showery 
cloud of sorrow, the rays of the Sun of Righteousness so 
refracted as to form the iris of mercy, at once inspiring 
hope and exciting thanksgiving. 

"We turn to Isaiah, the evangelical prophet, and find 
the first of these prismatic promises in the comforting 
words, "But now thus saith the Lord that created 
thee, Jacob, and he that formed thee, Israel, Fear 
not, for I have redeemed thee, I have called thee by 
thy name : thou art mine. When thou passest through 
the waters I will be with thee ; and through the rivers, 
they shall not overflow thee ; when thou walkest 
through the fire thou shalt not be burned, neither shall 
the flame kindle upon thee. For I am the Lord thy 
God, the Holy One of Israel, thy Saviour." How 
much and how beautiful the light refracted from this 
glowing passage ! As if God had said, Fear not, for 
He who created thee out of nothing, He who formed 
thee in the shape and fashion of humanity, He who 
redeemed thee from the dominion of death, He who so 
knows thee as to call thee by name, and to grave thee 



The Rainbow. 177 

on the palrus of his hands, and to make thee unto him 
a chosen peculiar people, will not forsake thee in any 
emergency or trial; but "when thou passest through 
the waters" of affliction, "I, the Lord thy God, the 
Holy One of Israel, thy Saviour," will be with thee ; 
when thou goest through "rivers" of sorrow, "I, the 
Lord thy God, the Holy One of Israel, thy Saviour," 
will not suffer them to overflow thee ; when " thou 
walkest through the fire" and along the flame-enkindled 
pathway of persecution, " I, the Lord thy God, the 
Holy One of Israel, thy Saviour," will not suffer thee 
to burn, but will protect thee from the fiery trial. 
What wide promises, what divine assurance ! How full 
of hope and comfort to the sorrowful and the persecuted ! 
A few pages on, and we find another promise for our 
covenant bow ; one, too, that has specific relations to 
the rainbow of the deluge, for that token was evident- 
ly present to the mind of God when the words were 
uttered: "For a small moment," says Jehovah, speak- 
ing to his ancient people, " for a small moment 
have I forsaken thee, but with great mercies will I 
gather thee. In a little wrath I hid my face from thee 
for a moment : but with everlasting kindness will I have 
mercy on thee, saith the Lord thy Redeemer." " For," 
In' continues, "this is us the waters of Noah unto me: 
for :i- I have sworn that the waters of Noah should no 
iin. re go over i In' earth, so have I sworn that I would 
not be wroth with thee, oor rebuke thee, for the 
mountains .-hall depart and the hills he removed, hut my 



ITS Comfort. 

kindness shall not depart from thee, neither shall the 
covenant of my peace be removed, saith the Lord that 
hath mercy on thee." This strong promise, made origi- 
nally to the Israelites, is reaffirmed to each individual be- 
liever ; for each child of God experiences moments when 
God seems to forsake him, and periods of darkness 
when his face seems hidden from him by intervening 
wrath or sorrow, and at such times we are tempted to 
murmur, as if we had a right to perpetual sunshine, 
forgetting that it is our iniquities which have separated 
between us and God, and our sins which have hid his face 
from us, that he cannot hear. Yet if we are in truth 
his children, and do seek to honour and glorify him, 
he will let it be but a small moment that he forsakes us, 
and but a passing gush of wrath in which he hides his 
face from us. The cloud between us may for a little 
while be black, angry, tempestuous, electrical ; but 
when the gust is over and the Sun of Righteousness 
again shines out, then will the bright arch of hope 
span the vanishing cloud ; for God declares that, as 
when he looks upon the rainbow, he remembers his 
covenant with Noah never again to bring the waters of 
the deluge upon the earth, so this promise that He 
would not for ever be wroth with thee nor rebuke thee, 
shall be to him a token never finally to remove his 
covenant of peace. Sooner far shall the everlasting 
hills depart ; sooner far the deep foundations of the 
oarth be moved, than God's promise fail or his cove- 
nant of peace be removed. 



The Rainbow. 



179 



Sitting -with our Saviour upon the grassy mount, 
and listening to the sermon he delivered there, we find 
another tinted promise of a dye so heavenly that it at 
once finds its place as one of the septenary colours in 
this rainbow of hope. The words are few but con- 
densed, the promise is brief but of intensive force, of 
infinite expansibility — it is the verse " Blessed are they 
that mourn, for they shall be comforted." But how 
comforted ? Not with earthly sympathy, for that 
gives but little solace ; not with worldly succour, for the 
world has no balm for a broken heart ; but comforted 
with the choice blessings of the Divine Comforter, by 
which strength is imparted to the weak, light to the 
darkened, joy to the saddened, peace to the troubled, 
and hope to the sinking spirit. 

I know that this passage refers not so much to the 
mourning for the various afflictions of life as to mourn- 
ing over indwelling corruption and remaining sin. But 
then what sorrow is greater to bear than a sin-burdened 
spirit ? What grief more heavy than the weight of an 
oppressed and fainting soul just waking up to a con- 
sciousness of its danger? These are sorrows that the 
world knows nothing of; they lie out of the range of 
earthly vision, hidden away in the heart, pondered over 
in secret, confessed perhaps to none, yet how deep and 
poignanl they are; they drink up the spirit, they 
weary the heart, they at times crush the soul. 
Y.t though bo dark and stormy, the slanting light 
reflected from the face of Jesus draws out of this angry 



ISO Comfort. 

cloud a ray of bright and gladdening hope, adding 
another stripe to the covenant how of promise as it is 
seen through the tears of a godly, penitential sorrow. 

But our Saviour furnishes another prismatic colour 
for our covenant arch in the invitation, " Come unto 
me, all ye that labour and are heavy laden, and I will 
give you rest." There is here no restriction as to the 
persons invited, none as to the rest promised : whether 
then you labour under the cares, trials, and perplexities 
of life ; whether you are burdened by the crushing 
weight of poverty, sorrow, and sickness ; whether you 
labour under the sharp convictions of sin from which 
you struggle to free yourself, or whether you are 
burdened by a sense of weighty guilt and a conscious 
deserving of eternal woe ; in each case you are invited 
to Jesus with the promise of heavenly rest. There is 
no mind labouring under any of the burdens of life, 
there is no soul overworked and exhausted by the 
pressing cares of this mortal state, there is no heart 
aiming to work out its own righteousness under the 
taskmasters of formalism and morality, that will not 
be at once relieved of its burden and find rest in 
Christ. Sooner can you find in the Bible instances of 
the sick and the blind going to Him for healing and 
sent away uncured, than you can produce an instance 
of a labouring, burdened soul, accepting the invitation 
which calls him to the Saviour, and not finding the rest 
which the Saviour covenants to give. You may search 
the Evangelists through, and not find an instance of 



The Kainbow. 181 

rejection to the petitioners for Christ's mercy when he 
was on earth ; and were the records of the inner ex- 
perience of all Christians since the day of Pentecost 
open to our inspection, we should be equally unsuccess- 
ful in noting any instance of a labouring, burdened 
soul being turned away from Jesus and deprived of his 
promised rest. And such rest ! The rest of one who 
has found what he has long sought and deeply needs. 
The rest of one who has been wearied and overborne 
with ineffectual seekings after peace and hope; a rest 
from the dominion of sin, from the harrowing assaults 
of the adversary, from the restless wanderings of un- 
belief ; a rest in the assured confidence of faith ; a 
rest not of passive indifference, or inactive repose, but 
full of lively emotions, of holy zeal, of outgoing love ; 
the forecast shadow of that eternal rest which remain- 
eth for the people of God. 

When, then, we reflect upon the person who issues the 
invitation, Jesus Christ, proving his large-hearted love 
by giving his life for the ransom of his enemies ; when 
wc consider the nature of the rest which he offers, 
spiritual, holy, rejoicing, unending; and when we mark 
tin- broadness of his invitation — all ye who labour 
and arc heavy laden — thus covering the whole human 
race, for there is no man that liveth and hath not 
.-Mine labouring care, and some burdening sorrow; and 
when, i" all these precious facts, we add the indivi- 
dual experience df the truth of tliis promise by each 

disciple of Jeene for nearly two thousand years, we 



182 Comfort. 

cannot fail to observe how glowingly such a promise 
shines on the sorrow-clouds of earth, bending over the 
labouring and heavy laden child of sin at least one of 
the colours of the Christian bow of hope. 

In the last interview of our Saviour with the apostles 
before his crucifixion, he gave fhera many and peculiar 
consolations in view of his near removal from them. 
But though those precious chapters in St. John's 
gospel beginning with the cheering words, " Let not 
your heart be troubled," were originally addressed to 
the sorrowing band that clustered around Him on that 
night of His agony and arrest, yet are they also 
appropriate and even designed for believers in all ages, 
for they form an important part of that Scripture 
which, at all times, and to all people, "is profitable for 
doctrine, for reproof, for correction, for instruction in 
righteousness." Among the many thrilling sentences 
uttered on that memorable night there is one so terse, 
so full of thought, so rich in comfort, that we may well 
claim for it a place in Mercy's triumphal arch. It is 
the passage " I will not leave you comfortless, I will 
come unto you." The original is, I will not leave you 
« Orphans :" accordingly Wiclyffe, in his translation, 
renders it, "I will not leave you Fatherless ;" while the 
Rhiems version, following more closely the Greek word, 
reads, " I will not leave you Orphans." An orphan is 
indeed sad and comfortless ; his earthly props and 
counsellors have been taken away, a painful void is 
made in his life, and his heart is stricken and desolate. 



The Rainbow. 



183 



It is not, however, of natural orphanage that the 
words of Jesus apply, it is of that spiritual desertion, 
that loss of the props and supports of the Christian 
life, which too often occurs with the careless, unwatch- 
ing, and prayer-restraining professor. In those days 
when doubt perplexes the mind and shadows of earthi- 
ness fall upon the spirit, when there is no comfort in 
devotion, and zeal smoulders in the ashes of a once 
blazing activity, when there is the first relenting of 
sorrow for such a cold or lukewarm state, and the 
awakening soul begins to feci the great lapse which it 
has made, and the grievous errors which it has com- 
mitted ; when the sense of deserved desertion and 
spiritual destitution gains ground and almost oppresses 
the heart, and the Christian feels that he is well nigh 
fatherless in the moral universe, an abandoned orphan 
with no spiritual parentage to which he can cling ; then 
it is that there is seen stretching across this dark 
cloud, that hue of glory which streams from the words 
of Jesus, "I will not leave you orphans." You may 
seem to be forsaken and disinherited ; you may think 
from the severity of God's dealings that your Heavenly 
Father lias forgotten you or cast you out from his pre 
Bence, and you may feel as homeless, parentless, portion- 
orphans. Yet it is only in the seeming thereof. 
Christ's promise stands out in full prismatic beauty, the 
sign of that covenant of grace which assures you, with lips 
of peace and truth, I will nol leave you orphans; I will 
come to you — come to you in the cheering influences of 



184 



Comfort. 



my love ; come to you in the precious outpourings of my 
spirit ; come to you in the imparted strength and com- 
fort of the Holy Ghost ; come to you in sickness, in 
suffering, in sorrow ; come to you with the oil and wine 
of gospel truth ; come to you in the light of my own 
countenance, making your dark soul radiant with joy, 
and painting upon the lowering vapour, whose showers 
have but just discharged themselves upon your head, 
the overarching bow of covenant peace, and hope. 

The sixth colour of this « bow in the cloud" is added 
by the pencil of St. Paul. No one of the apostles en- 
dured more persecution and affliction, or had richer 
experience of sustaining grace under them, than this 
holy martyr. His estimate of sorrow, therefore, is the 
more valuable, because it is evolved by the deep expe- 
rience of his own life, and is the deliberate judgment 
of one who had tried the world and Christ, and thus 
was prevented from giving ex parte evidence in the 
matter. This judgment he has recorded in his second 
letter to the Corinthians ; and, while it expresses his 
personal experience, is yet a type of all affliction en 
dured for Christ's sake, or so borne as to be subservient 
to His glory. His words are, « Our light affliction, 
which is but for a moment, worketh for us a far more 
exceeding and eternal weight of glory ; while we look 
not at the things which are seen, but at the things 
which are not seen : for the things which are seen are 
temporal, but the things which are not seen are eter- 
nal." It will perhaps increase our idea of the inten- 



The Rainbow. 



185 



sive force of this passage, if we place beside it that 
brief catalogue of the Apostle's sufferings which he has 
drawn up in this same epistle. » Of the Jews five 
times received I forty stripes, save one. Thrice was I 
beaten with rods, once was I stoned, thrice I suffered 
shipwreck, a night and a day have I been in the deep ; 
in journeyings often, in perils of waters, in perils of 
robbers, in perils by mine own countrymen, in perils by 
the heathen, in perils in the city, in perils in the wilder- 
ness, in perils in the sea, in perils amongst false breth- 
ren, in weariness and painfulness, in watchings often, 
in hunger and thirst, in fastings often, in cold and 
nakedness." 

Few of us could run up such a catalogue of personal 
sorrow as this ; yet how does he speak of it ? as a light 
affliction, but for a moment. And not only so, but an 
affliction which is an instrument of working out for us 
a far more exceeding and eternal weight of glory. 
Mark the two scales under the respective heads of 
uffliction and glory ; observe the diminuendo of the 
former, and the crescendo of the latter. The "afflic- 
tion'," "light" as to its character; "but for a moment" 
as to its duration; while the "glory" has "weight" 
as being heavy with blessing; is "eternal" as to its 
permanence; is "exceeding," as passing human concep- 
tion : is "far more exceeding," as expressive of its un- 
Bpeakahle excellence. So intense was the feeling of 
the Apostle here, that the usual superlatives could not 
body forth his thought, and he was forced to make a 



186 Comfort. 

new word to give utterance to his emotion : it is glory, 
it is a weight of glory, it is an eternal weight of glory, 
it is an exceeding and eternal weight of glory, it is a 
far more exceeding and eternal weight of glory. What 
a climax ! like the rainbow, its foot, indeed, rests on 
earth, but it arches upward to heaven, spanning the 
dark cloud of affliction with a list of beauty. And if 
the Apostle could say this of himself, so persecuted, 
afflicted, tormented, ought not each child of sorrow to 
look at his own trials as light and momentary ? We 
can do thus, if we have such a lively faith in Christ 
that we cling solely to his atoning blood, and hence 
regard all the adversities of life as the chastenings of 
parental love, designed to fit us to enjoy the far more 
exceeding and eternal weight of glory, which shall be 
ours when the light affliction, which is but for a 
moment, shall be done away for ever. We are too 
much disposed to shroud ourselves with our sorrows, 
to dwell in the settlings down of the cloud, and have 
our hearts ever kept wet by its weeping showers. So 
long as we do this we cannot have peace or comfort, 
we must go towards the sunshine, and just in propor- 
tion as we get into the fuller light of Jesus' face, is the 
bow more clearly seen in the cloud, and the covenant 
promise of Jehovah more rejoicingly believed. It is 
only "while we look not at the things which are seen, 
but at the things which are not seen," that we are en- 
abled to lift up ourselves above surrounding and often 
depressing influences. The "things seen" are the 



The Rainbow. 187 

present sorrows, with their accompanying trials and 
sadness, and upon these we morbidly look, and as we 
look, we magnify, distort, add weight to them, and thus 
increase the burden ; while, would we but look away, 
and open wide the lids of faith's eye towards the un- 
seen and the eternal, gazing by this spiritual vision 
upon the future glories and blessedness of those who 
through much tribulation enter into the kingdom of 
heaven, we should be so ravished with delight that 
every sorrow would be cheerfully borne, and not a 
cloud of affliction could skirt the horizon of our life, upon 
which we could not discern the rainbow of the covenant. 
The last colour in this prismatic arch is furnished by 
"the Beloved Disciple," and is drawn from a revelation 
to him of some of these very « things which are unseen 
and eternal." The Apostle, in his vision at Patmos, had 
" beheld, and, lo, a great multitude which no man could 
number, of all nations, and kindreds, and people, and 
tongues, stood before the throne and before the Lamb, 
clothed with white robes, and palms in their hands." 
While he listened to their ascriptions of praise, one of 
the celestial host approached and asked him, by way 
of calling his attention to the scene, "Who are these 
which are arrayed in white robes? and whence came 
they?" The surprised Apostle answered, "Sir, thou 
knowest." In reply to this the heavenly visitant said 
unto him, "These are they which came out of great 
tribulation, and have washed their robes and made 
them white in the blood of the Lamb. Therefore arc 



188 Comfort. 

they before the throne of God, and serve him day and 
night in his temple ; and he that sitteth on the throne 
shall dwell among them. They shall hunger no more, 
neither thirst any more, neither shall the sun light on 
them, nor any heat, for the Lamb which is in the midst 
of the throne shall feed them, and shall lead them unto 
living fountains of waters, and God shall wipe away all 
tears from their eyes." Can human thought add 
aught to this picture ? No. All that we can do is to 
ponder word by word over the terms of this descrip- 
tion, to strive to take in one by one the ideas which 
they convey : the white robe, the branch of palm, the 
cleansing blood, the posture before the throne, the 
mighty chorus, the Lamb in the midst of the throne, 
the absence of hunger and thirst, the feeding in green 
pastures, the drinking from living fountains, and the 
wiping away from our eyes all tears, by the very 
Father's hand, whose chastening rod had caused their 
flow. Did we dwell more upon these terms, we should 
realize more than we now do that they are designed to 
assure us of what will be our state when we pass the vale 
of tears, and stand upon the Mount Zion above. Yes, 
every one of these blessings shall be ours, if Ave have 
been washed in the blood of the Lamb. If tribulations 
are the necessary preparative, if there can be no weight 
of glory unless there has been previously the light 
aflliction, then let us welcome sorrow, welcome suffering 
which endures but a moment here, but which brings 
eternal joy hereafter. 






The Rainbow. 189 

And now we have laid side by side seven rich and 
precious promises, as the seven colours of the rainbow, 
each lovely in itself, but combined, forming that arch of 
covenant glory which God has equally "set in the cloud" 
of sorrow on earth, and " around the throne" in heaven. 
Behold it in its varied but exquisite hues ! Is it not 
beautiful as it springs upward — as it swells heaven- 
ward — as it bends downward, curving over our sorrow- 
drenched hearts, with assurances of present sunshine 
and of future bliss ? 

Having thus far looked upon the « cloud" and the 
"bow in the cloud," let us now cast one glance at the 
Sun whose refracted and reflected rays make this arch 
of glory. 

Many are the passages in the Bible which represent 
Christ as the light of the world ; and Malachi especially 
designates him as the " Sun of Righteousness." Strik- 
ing and appropriate comparison ! Christ is a » Sun" — 
the great light-producing, light-imparting centre of the 
moral universe. Christ is a " Sun of Righteousness" 
whether we regard Him as infinitely righteous in Him- 
self, or as shedding abroad righteousness upon a dark 
and sinful world. Christ is a Sun of Righteousness 
that casts no shadow. The material sun casts shadows 
— nay, more, lias dark spots and immense maculae on 
its bright disc — but the Sun of Righteousness is im- 
maculate — unblemished in Himself, and like a vertical 
sun makes no shadow. Christ is a Sun of Righteous- 
ness that cast no shadow and that never sets. The 



190 Comfort. 

earthly sun lias its risings, its meridians, its setting, 
and the light of midday is soon succeeded by the dark 
of midnight. Not so with Christ ; He shines out from 
the zenith of the spiritual firmament, and there is no 
going down of His light — no evening to shroud his 
departed rays. Once shining — for ever shining — with- 
out a shadow — without an eclipse — without a sunset. 

Such is the Sun whose refracted rays paint the iris 
of hope on the cloud of sorrow. For though the 
promises which I have adduced, like the different 
stripes of the rainbow, are of different hues, yet the 
light which produces them is the pure and colourless 
essence of Divine glory. 

In this light it is our privilege, as Christians, to 
dwell. Abiding in this light, we have peace, hope, joy, 
and prove ourselves to be "the children of light" through 
faith in Christ Jesus. Hence unrenewed men have no 
comfort or solace in any of the trials and afflictions of 
life. The heart must be surrendered to Jesus Christ, 
it must be washed in His atoning blood, it must be 
sanctified by His holy Spirit, before we can become 
" children of light and of the day ;" but when through the 
sovereign grace of God we receive this "adoption of sons," 
then is it our peculiar privilege to see God's love in 
every dispensation of His hand, and to see His bow of 
covenant promise in every cloud of sorrow. 

Stevens. 



The Kainbow. 191 

Scriptural Selections. 

Fear not : for I have redeemed thee, I have called thee by thy 
name ; thou art mine. 

"When thou passest through the waters, I will he with thee ; and 
through the rivers, they shall not overflow thee : when thou walkest 
through the fire, thou shalt not be burned ; neither shall the flame 
kindle upon thee. 

For I am the Lord thy God, the Holy One of Israel, thy Saviour. — 
Is. xliii. 1, 2, 3. 

For a small moment have I forsaken thee, but with great mercies 
will I gather thee. 

In a little wrath I hid my face from thee for a moment : but with 
everlasting kindness will I have mercy on thee, saith the Lord thy 
Redeemer. 

For this is as the waters of Noah unto mc : for as I have sworn 
that the waters of Noah should no more go over the earth ; so have I 
sworn that I would not be wroth with thee, nor rebuke thee. 

For the mountains shall depart, and the hills be removed ; but my 
kindness shall not depart from thee, neither shall the covenant of my 
peace be removed, saith the Lord that hath mercy on thee. — Is. 
liv. 7-10. 

Blessed are they that mourn : for they shall be comforted. — Matt. 
v. 4. 

] will not leave you comfortless: I will come to you. — John xiv. 18. 

For our light affliction, which is but for a moment, workcth for us 
a fur more exceeding and eternal weight of glory; 

While we look not at the things which arc seen, but at the things 
which arc not seen: for the things which arc seen arc temporal ; hut 
the things which arc not seen are eternal. — 2 Cor. 17, 18. 

God shall wipe away all tears from their eyes. — Rev. vii. 17. 



192 Comfort. 



The Rainbow. 

When the sun with cheerful beams 
Smiles upon a lowering sky, 

Soon its aspect softened seems, 
And a rainbow meets the eye ; 

While the sky remains serene, 

This bright arch is never seen. 

Thus the Lord's supporting power 
Brightest to the saints appears, 

When affliction's threatening hour 
Fills their sky with clouds and fears : 

He can wonders then perform, 

Paint a rainbow on the storm. 

All their graces doubly shine, 
When their troubles press them sore ; 

And the promises divine 

Give them joys unknown before ; 

As the colours of the bow 

To the cloud their brightness owe. 



III. 
Entering the Gate. 

" And he led them forth ly lite right tea;/, Unit (hey might go (r, a city of halitation."—Ts. cvn. 7. 
" Blessed are they that do hi* couinuuahncnts, that they may have right to the tree of life, and 
may enter in through the gates into the cityS'—REV. xxn, 11. 

THIS present world through which we are passing 
may justly be called a wilderness ; it is a solitary, 
and a barren way. It is a lonely and a dreary way we 
are travelling in ; the path is strait and narrow, and 
few there are that walk therein. This Avorld is no 
more our friend, than it is our home ; the true Christian, 
therefore, who is born from above, whose conversation 
is in heaven, and Avho is daily travelling thitherward, is 
the object of its malice, or else the subject of its ridicule. 
The soil of this present evil world is barren and unfruit- 
ful ; it presents before our eyes many objects which are 
an hinderancc to us in our way ; but it is entirely desert 
and barren with respect to any help it affords us in our 
progress. It produces little else but briers and thorns, 
which have ;i tendency only to entangle and wound the 
('(•,■1 of those wlio pass through it. The many afflictions 
with which the people of God arc exercised in the pre- 
Benl lii'f, are as a constanl clog i" the wheels of their 
.-uiil-, which makes them drag on heavily: ami were 

they nol sometimes favoured with a view el' the rest 

(198) 



191 Comfort. 

which remains for them, they would be almost ready to 
despair of getting safe out of this vale of tears, which 
they have, therefore, too great occasion to call a waste 
howling wilderness — a solitary and a barren land. 

This present world through which we are passing is 
also properly compared to a wilderness, as it is likewise 
a dangerous way. A wilderness is a place not only 
barren and unfrequented, but is generally full of pits 
and wild beasts, which render it exceeding dangerous. 
For this reason it is styled in Scripture « a terrible 
wilderness, wherein are fiery serpents, and scorpions, 
and drought, where there is no water," Deut. viii. 15. 
We are called to pass through an enemy's country ; 
this world is under the influence of our greatest and 
most inveterate enemy. The Devil is styled the prince 
of the power of the air, and the generality of this 
world's inhabitants are his willing slaves and vassals. 
Whilst therefore we are passing through his territories, 
he will be sure to gain all the advantages he can against 
us. No sooner do we enlist ourselves under the banner 
of Christ Jesus, but Satan and the world immediately 
join in a league against us ; as though they were re- 
solved to rob the Redeemer of his spoil, and pluck those 
who are the purchase of his blood out of his hands. 
There is a rooted enmity between the seed of the woman 
and the seed of the serpent. Satan has an inveteracy 
against every one that bears the image of Jesus ; and 
" as a roaring lion walketh about seeking whom he may 
devour," 1 Peter v. 8. And, like an old serpent, he 
conceals his wiles that he may get the better advan- 



Entering the Gate. 195 

tage over us. We are, in this life, never free from his 
temptations : he is always contriving some temptation 
against us, or presenting it to us. And that we do not 
oftener fall into the snares which he lays to entrap us, 
is only owing to the care and vigilance of our Great 
Leader, and the grace which he is pleased to commu- 
nicate to us out of his fulness. 

As for the world; "the lust of the flesh, the lust of 
the eyes, and the pride of life," how prevalent have 
these been to draw aside the believer from the God and 
guide of his youth ! these Philistines are often upon us 
before we are aware of them, and there is an unbeliev- 
ing heart always within, which is as constant fuel to the 
fire of temptations from without. So that were not 
God pleased at particular times to open our eyes, and 
let us see that, " they who are for us are more than 
they which are against us," we should be ready to give 
up all in despair. 

On these accounts the present state is compared to a 
wilderness. We wander here in the wilderness, in a 
solitary way, "we can find no city to dwell in, hungry 
and thirsty, our souls faint within us." But herein 
God Leads his people by the right way, to the city of 
habitation. They are dear to him every one as the 
apple of his eye — as near to him as his right hand. His 
love was fixed from everlasting upon them, and therefore 
his ''arc and loving kindness are ever exercised towards 
them. Ee may bring bis people into the wilderness, 
but In- cannot, in consistency with tin" perfections of 



196 



Comfort. 



his nature, or the promise of his grace, ever leave 
them there. They may, and often do seem to lose their 
hold of him ; hut he never does, he never can lose his 
hold of them. " For the Lord's portion is his people ; 
Jacob is the lot of his inheritance. He found him in a 
desert land, and in the waste howling wilderness ; he 
led him about, he instructed him, he kept him as the 
apple of his eye," Deut. xxxii. 0, 10. There is no 
getting to Immanuel's land, but by the way of the wil- 
derness ; which though it is not our rest itself, yet it 
leads us to our rest ; it fits and prepares us for it ; and 
the afflictions which we meet with therein, serve also 
to make the heavenly blessedness the more desirable 
iioav, and delightful hereafter. God may therefore 
often lead us in a rough and unpleasant way, but he 
always leads us in a right way. Let us only take a 
view of these particular seasons, wherein we are most 
apt to question the loving kindness of our God, and we 
may determine the happy issue of all the rest. 

Let us begin with the melancholy state and con- 
dition of those from whom God hides the light of his 
countenance. These are often ready to object against 
themselves, that they shall never " see the goodness of 
the Lord in the land of the living." Methinks I hear 
them complaining with the church of old, " My way is 
hid from the Lord, and my judgment is passed from my 
God." And condemning themselves for hypocrites, and 
mere professors, because of the uncertainty of their 
frames, and the unfruitfulness of their lives. They are 



Entering the Gate. 197 

for the present bewildered, as those that have lost their 
way. They have no sensible communion with Christ — 
no present discovery of the love of God, to take com- 
fort in : but notwithstanding their fears, " this is the 
right way, wherein God leads us to the city of habita- 
tion." Were the reconciled countenance of a covenant 
God and Father always to be lift up on us, we should 
be apt to prize the comforts we receive immediately 
from him more than the glorious person who was the 
purchaser, and is the bestower of them. Were he never 
to hide his face, we should live upon the streams, rather 
than the fountains; we should be too ready to say with 
the three disciples, "Lord, it is good for us to be here;" 
we should be ready to make a stop at the banks of 
Jordan ; or at least, we should pass that river with re- 
luctance, indifferent in our desires after what rcmaineth 
to be received by us in the heavenly world. In a word, 
God is pleased to give us at some times, a glimpse of 
our future glory, that he may excite our desires after 
the farther enjoyments thereof; and at other times is 
pleased wisely to withhold his hand in this respect, that 
we may be willing when he calls us, "to depart, and be 
with Christ." This, then, though it be a way less 
pleasanl for us to walk in, is nevertheless the right way 
fcO tin' place where our hearts and treasure are both 
1 ; by tlii> means, we are made to long after, and 

then are led to the city of habitation. 

The Bame may be said, concerning the various out- 
war d afflict ions with which the belie veria exercised. They 



198 Comfort. 

care all of them, let them arise from what quarter soever, 
useful to us, and necessary for us. God never sends an 
affliction to us but when he sees it needful for us ; and he 
never removes it from us, before it has answered the end 
for which he at first sent it. Outward afflictions are not 
accidental things, they come not by chance, but are 
sent to us by a wise and merciful Father, who causes 
them to answer the end for which he sends them. By 
them we are purged from our dross and tin ; grace is 
tried and refined in the furnace of affliction, and they, 
who have tasted that the Lord is gracious, are hereby 
conformed to his heavenly image — made partakers of 
his holiness, Heb. xii. 10, and more prepared for his 
heavenly kingdom. Afflictions are a furtherance to us 
in our way heavenward — not an hinderance to us ; 
though when we are exercised therewith we often con- 
clude ourselves to be in a desert and desolate land. 
We must be first of all prepared for glory, before we 
can, in consistency with the perfections of our God, be 
received into it : and this is the end, and proves the 
blessed issue of our present afflictions, 2 Cor. iv. 17. 
Hereby, then, it further appears, that God leads his 
people the right way, though it may be a rough way, 
to the city of habitation. 

The temptations of Satan every one of them answer 
the same general end. He is, indeed, styled, with 
an emphasis, "our adversary," 1 Peter v. 8. But he 
oftentimes proves, contrary to his own design and our 
expectation, our great friend. The powers of darkness 
are suffered to dwell amongst us for the same reason 



Entering the Gate. 199 

that some of the Canaanites were left among the people 
of Israel ; that is, to try us, and show us how weak we 
are without Christ ; and how strong we are when Aye 
depend upon that grace which is treasured up in him. 
By all the advantages they gain against us, they only 
render us the more distrustful of ourselves ; and the 
grace which we have already received, makes us the 
more in love with Christ Jesus, our glorious head, in 
whose strength we overcome them — and more desirous 
of that city of habitation, which God has prepared for 
his people ; where we shall join the heavenly host, in 
saying with a loud voice, "Now is come salvation, and 
strength, and the kingdom of our God, and the power 
of his Christ : for the accuser of our brethren is cast 
down, who accused them before our God day and night," 
Rev. xii. 10. Thus we see how God leads his people by 
the right way, that they may go to a city of habitation. 
If then God has prepared for his people a city of 
habitation; how great is that grace, how free and sove- 
reign is that love, to which this was originally owing ! 
All that we have in time, and all that we expect to 
enjoy to eternity, proceed alone from this spring; this 
is the original fountain from which they all flow. The 
vessels of mercy were prepared from all eternity TO 
glory, though they are prepared fob it only in time. 
And to wli.it can this unspeakable privilege be owing, 
or into what can it be resolved, short of the aovereign 
and distinguishing grace of God? This it is alone that 
make-, Qfl differ from other- : considered in ourselves, we 

were equally the objects of the anger and resentment 



200 Comfort. 

of an holy God, with those " who are reserved in chains 
of darkness, to the judgment of the great day ;" and 
had not the free grace of God found out an expedient 
for our salvation, we must equally with them, have 
suffered the vengeance of eternal fire. "But God, who 
is rich in mercy, for his great love wherewith he loved 
us, even when we were dead in sins, hath quickened us 
together with Christ (by grace ye are saved) ; and hath 
raised us up together, and made us sit together in 
heavenly places in Christ Jesus ; That in ages to come, 
he might show the exceeding riches of his grace, in his 
kindness towards us, through Christ Jesus," Eph. ii. 
4-7. Grace acts like itself, it gives all things freely. 
God deals with us as the "God of all grace;" for 
he gives us both grace here, and glory hereafter, 
and "no good thing will he withhold from them that 
walk uprightly." He first of all makes us his sons, 
takes us into the number of his family, and gives us a 
right and title to the privileges of his house in our 
justification ; and in our sanctification, he gradually 
prepares us for the more immediate enjoyment of him- 
self in a better world ; and then he calls us home to 
the glorious inheritance itself, "the city of habitation," 
which he had settled upon us before all worlds. And 
who of us can take but a slight view of these things, 
without crying out with the apostle, "Behold what 
manner of love the Father hath bestowed upon us, that 
we should be called the sons of God," 1 John iii. 1. 
Our eternal predestination to glory, and our actual 
preparation for it, are both of them owing wholly, and 



Entering the Gate. 201 

alone, tc his free and sovereign grace ; and to this 
shall we everlastingly ascribe it, when we come "to the 
general assembly, and church of the first-born, and to 
the spirits of the just made perfect." 

Are we to pass through the wilderness to this city of 
habitation ? How much need have we of a guide to 
show us the way, and how thankful should we be to 
Him who has undertaken to perform this kind office for 
us. Were we left in this wilderness-world without a 
guide, our condition would be deplorable, and our ruin 
inevitable ; we should then fall into the pits and snares 
which our enemies have made for the entanglement of 
our feet, and the destruction of our souls ; they, that 
are more mighty than we, would assuredly prevail 
against us — we should be led captive by Satan at his 
will — there would be no withstanding his temptations 
— no escaping his malice and fury, or resisting those 
whom he employs against us in this desolate and dan- 
gerous way. But through grace, this blessing we have. 
Christ Jesus is styled the " captain of our salvation," 
and he faithfully discharges his office, which he has 
engaged to perform as such. He not only undertook 
to purchase salvation by his death, but to apply it like- 
wise by his life ; he goes before continually as our guide 
and leader, and marks out the path which we arc to 
take; lie communicates to us suitable help and refresh- 
ment, while we arc in out way; restores our bouIs when 
we have gone out of our way, and preserves us from the 
fury and violence, as well as the crafl and subtlety of 

our many enemies. He is "a pillar of cloud to us for 
26 



202 Comfort. 

our covering by day, and a pillar of fire for our guid- 
ance by night." lie is always at our right hand, so 
that we should not be greatly moved. Here lies our 
safety, and the strong ground of our hope, that we 
shall not fall short of our rest, or lose the prize we are 
so earnestly contending for. Christ himself is our life, 
and the length of our days ; who has graciously promised 
that He will never fail, nor forsake us. May we, there- 
fore, begin the work of heaven before we come there, 
daily offering the sacrifices of praise and thanksgiving 
unto him, even the fruit of our lips. Using the same 
language here, as we hope to use for ever hereafter. 
" Unto Him that loved us, and washed us from our 
sins in his own blood, and hath made us kings and 
priests unto God and his Father : to Him be glory and 
dominion for ever and ever. Amen," Rev. i. 5, 6. 

Is the way of the wilderness the right way to a city 
of habitation ? How easy should this make us under 
all the temptations, trials, and afflictions with which we 
are now exercised. "All things are for your sakes, 
that the abundant grace might, through the thanksgiv- 
ing of many, redound to the glory of God," 2 Cor. iv. 
15. This should make us willingly submit to the 
various trials we meet with on our passage. There is 
a crown of glory reserved in heaven for all those that 
shall continue faithful unto death — a city of habitation 
where the weary pilgrim shall rest — rivers of pleasure, 
where we shall be refreshed and delighted. There he 
will have an ample amends for all the difficulties he has 
been exposed to in the present life. The view of this 



Entering the Gate. 203 

recompense of reward will make death itself pleasant, 
and hang out a lamp sufficient to enlighten even that 
dark valley. 

Can none get admission into this city of habitation 
but the "redeemed of the Lord?" Let this lead us to 
Jesus Christ, the only person » Who is of God, made 
unto us wisdom, righteousness, sanctification, and re- 
demption," 1 Cor. i. 30. » Him hath God exalted with 
his right hand to be a Prince and a Saviour, for to give 
repentance unto Israel, and forgiveness of sins," Acts 
v. 31. No one can save us from our sins, but He 
whom God hath set forth to be a propitiation for our 
sin, through faith in his blood. Hither, then, must the 
convinced sinner fly, as his city of refuge ; on His 
righteousness must we all depend for a right and title 
to life ; and his spirit alone can fit and prepare us for it. 
If we have not on us Christ's perfect righteousness, we 
are not his people ; none but they who are arrayed 
with this fine linen, clean and white, shall be thought 
worthy to enter into this city of habitation. Let us, 
therefore, be importunate with God to lead us unto 
Christ, and enable us to believe in him to the saving of 
the soul. Such he has purchased glory for, and he 
lives to prepare them for it. "There, as their fore- 
runner, he is for them already entered ; and thither, us 
the captain of their salvation, will lie at lust bring 
them, and present them faultless before the throne of 

his Father's glory, with exceeding joy." 

Babt. 



204 Comport. 



Scriptural Selections. 

Be patient therefore, brethren, unto the coming of the Lord. Be- 
hold, the husbandman waiteth for the precious fruit of the earth, and 
hath long patience for it, until he receive the early and latter rain. 



Be ye also patient; establish your hearts: for the coming of the 
Lord draweth nigh. — James v. 7, 8. 

And a highway shall be there, and a way, and it shall be called, 
The way of holiness ; the unclean shall not pass over it ; but it shall 
be for those : the wayfaring men, though fools, shall not err therein. 

No lion shall be there, nor any ravenous beast shall go up thereon, 
it shall not be found there ; but the redeemed shall walk there : 

And the ransomed of the Lord shall return, and come to Zion with 
songs, and everlasting joy upon their heads; they shall obtain joy 
and gladness, and sorrow and sighing shall flee away.— Isaiah xxxv. 
8-10. 

In my Father's house are many mansions : if it were not so, I 
would have told you. I go to prepare a place for you. 

And if I go and prepare a place for you, I will come again, and 
receive you unto myself; that where I am, there ye may be also. — 
John xiv. 2, 8. 

Blessed are they that do his commandments, that they may have 
right to the tree of life, and may enter in through the gates into the 
city. — Eev. xxii. 14. 



Entering the Gate. 



205 



Heaven. 

" And God shall icipc away all tears from their eyes ; and there shall he no more death, nei/h>: 
sorrow, nor crying, neither shall there be any more pain ; for the former things have passed away.- 
Rsv. xxi. 1. 

No sickness there, — 
No weary wasting of the frame away, 
No fearful shrinking from the midnight air, 
No dread of summer's bright and fervid ray. 

No hidden grief, 
No wild and cheerless vision of despair, 
No vain petition for a swift relief, 
No tearful eyes, no broken hearts are there. 

Care has no home 
Within the realm of ceaseless prayer and song; 
Its billows break and melt away in foam, 
Far from the mansions of the spirit throng. 

The storm's black wing 
Is never spread athwart celestial skies ; 
Its wailings blend not with the voice of spring, 
As some too tender floweret fades and dies. 



No night distils 

It-i chilling dews a] the tender frame, 

V> moon is a led there. The lighl whii 

That land of glory, from it- ' ; 



206 Comfort. 

No parted friends 
O'er mournful recollections have to weep ; 
No bed of death enduring love attends, 
To watch the coming of a pulseless sleep. 

No blasted flower, 
Or withered bud celestial gardens know ; 
No scorching blast, or fierce-descending shower 
Scatters destruction like a ruthless foe. 

No battle word 
Startles the sacred host with fear and dread ; 
The song of peace creation's morning heard, 
Is sung wherever angel minstrels tread. 

Let us depart, 
If home like this await the weary soul. 
Look up, thou stricken one ! Thy wounded heart 
Shall bleed no more at sorrow's stern control. 

With faith our guide, 
White-robed and innocent, to lead the way, 
Why fear to plunge in Jordan's rolling tide, 
And find the ocean of eternal day ? 



IV. 
The White-Robed Throng. 

" I beheld, and. lo, a great multitude, wliicli no man could number, of aU nations, and kindreds, 
ind people, and tongues, stood before the throne, and before the Lamb, clothed with white robes, and 
palms in their hands."— Rev. vii. 9. 

WHAT a different scene, what a different world, 
separated only by a slight veil from that which 
we inhabit, is here exhibited to our view ! a world into 
which we may enter by a single step, and in a moment 
of time ! Here we see a busy world, eager in vain 
pursuits, agitated by mere trifles, contending about 
objects of no moment, and immersed in things which 
perish with the using. All is noise, and confusion, 
and vanity, and sorrow, and evil. 

But behold another world nigh at hand, composed 
of different beings, governed by different principles ; 
where all things are as momentous, as here they are 
frivolous ; where all things are as great, as here they 
are little ; where all things are as durable, as here they 
arc transitory ; where all things are as fixed, as here 
they air mutable! That world has also its inhabitants 
— 90 numerous, that the population of this world ia but 
as a petty tribe compared to them. It has its employ- 
ments; but they are of the noblest kind and weightiest 
import; and compared with them, the whole sum of 



208 Comfort. 

the concerns of this life is but as a particle of dust. 
It has its pleasures ; but they are pure and spotless, 
holy and divine. There, perfect happiness, and xm- 
interrupted harmony, and righteousness, and peace, 
ever prevail. What a contrast to our present state! 
And is this blessed scene near us ? may we be called 
into it in a moment ? With what anxious solicitude, 
then, should we endeavour to realize it; and how 
ardently should we desire to be prepared for an admis- 
sion into it ! 

The number of the blessed inhabitants of heaven is 
represented as infinite: "I beheld, and lo ! a great 
multitude which no man could number :"— and if we 
consider the infinite power and glory of him who 
created them; the magnificence, and even profusion 
displayed in the works of his hands; the end and 
design for which they were created, namely, to mani- 
fest his glory ; we shall at once feel that their number 
must be, in the fullest sense of the word, infinite. Let 
us reflect, that to create a million, or a million of mil- 
lions of the brightest and most glorious spirits, is as 
easy to the Almighty, as it was to create our first 
parents : he has but to will, and it is done. Let us 
consider that he rejoices in the multitude of his works : 
that every part of the universe is filled with being— 
from the immeasurable systems of worlds, to the atom 
whose minuteness eludes the keenest sight. Let us 
reflect, that heaven is the perfection of his works, the 
grand scene of his glory, the immediate place of his 



The White-Robed Throng. 209 

residence. There he is to be known, and adored, and 
glorified ; there he is to receive the homage so justly 
due to his majesty. And shall this part of his works 
only be scantily peopled ? Shall those realms alone, 
which he made for himself, be without inhabitants ? 
shall heaven alone be a blank in the creation ? Our 
Lord, it is true, hath said, speaking of the race of man, 
that " narrow is the way which leadeth to life, and few 
there be that enter in thereat;" but this expression 
relates solely to the earth we inhabit — one world 
amidst, perhaps, an innumerable multitude. It relates 
also, principally, to the time in which our Lord lived. 
Even this world, we trust, will not ultimately be 
barren, but produce numerous and faithful Avitnesses to 
the glory of the Redeemer. He made this earth the 
scene of his sufferings, and we may expect it to become 
the scene of his triumphs. Only allow the Gospel of 
Christ to prevail, as the prophets lead us to hope that 
in the latter days it will prevail; allow the world to 
continue, as there is ground to expect it will continue, 
to a period of which the infancy is scarcely yet past ; 
and we may conclude, that even from this fallen world 
shall multitudes, as numerous as the drops of the 
morning dew, crowd into the realms of light, to ascribe 
"glory, and praise, and honour, to Him that sitteth 
on the throne, and to the Lamb for ever." 

In considering the multitudes, beyond the power of 
calculation, which will people the realms of bliss, we 
niu-i recollect, that, there, multitudes constitute happi- 



210 Comfort. 

ness. On the earth, where a difficulty of subsistence 
is often experienced ; where there exists a constant 
collision of interests ; where one stands in the way of 
another ; where jealousies and envyings, anger and 
revenge, pride and vanity, agitate and deform the 
world ; numbers may tend to diffuse wretchedness and 
to multiply evil. Hence we flee for peace and joy from 
the crowded haunts of men, and court the sequestered 
habitation and the retired vale. But in heaven, where 
there can be no thwarting interests ; where the wants 
of one are never supplied at the expense of another ; 
where every bosom glows with love, and every heart 
beats with desire to promote the general happiness ; 
the addition of a fresh individual to the innumerable 
throng diffuses a wider joy, and heightens the universal 
felicity. 

The multitude assembled there is described as com- 
posed of all " nations, and kindred, and people, and 
tongues." Here, again, we must beware of forming 
our judgment from the feelings and views of this fallen 
world. There, it will be no cause of jealousy, or 
rivalry, or hatred, that one person received his birth on 
this, and another on that side of a river or sea. A 
man will not despise his brother on account of the 
different shade of his complexion ; he will not seek his 
destruction because he spoke in another language ; nor 
renounce communion with him because he praised the 
same God, with the same spirit of piety, in a house of 
a different form. All these petty distinctions will have 



The White-Robed Throng. 



211 



either ceased to exist, or will be completely annihilated 
in the general spirit of love that will then animate 
every mind. One pursuit will occupy every heart ; 
each will strive to glorify God. There will either be 
no distinctions, or the distinctions be like the beautiful 
variety we see in the works of God — like flowers 
enriched with different colours to delight the eye, or 
■with various perfumes to gratify the smell. Why 
should distinctions offend, or variety disgust? It is 
the dark and selfish pride of the heart which considers 
itself as the only standard of right and excellence, and 
therefore despises and hates every deviation from itself. 
Let the pride be removed, and the distinction would 
become a pleasing variety, instead of a source of 
hatred. 

Alas ! alas ! what petty differences, engendered by 
pride, and nursed by the worst passions of the human 
breast, here separate, with unchristian hatred, those 
who are brethren, the children of the same God, the 
members of the same church, taught by the same book, 
partakers of the same hope, redeemed by the same 
Saviour, influenced by the same Spirit, travelling along 
the same road towards the same blessed country ! 
religion ! our best, our dearest, holiest guide ! is thy 
divine aim to be diverted, to sanction discord, to justify 
hatred, and to consecrate bigotry? No; Religion 
acknowledges nothing as her own work, but union and 
peace. In heaven, her throne, no odious denomina- 
tions will parcel out the regenerated church, no frivo- 



21*2 Comfort. 

lous distinctions be suffered to break the unity of the 
members of Christ ; but people of every nation, and 
kindred, and tribe, and tongue, will unite in one 'wor- 
ship, Avill be animated with one spirit, will be actuated 
by one principle ; and that, the principle of pure and 
universal love. 

The society of that blessed place is composed of 
angels and saints; of those, that is, who have never 
sinned against God : and those who, having sinnod have 
been redeemed by the cross of Christ, and have 
"washed their robes, and made them white in the blood 
of the Lamb" — of those who were created, and have 
continued, in the highest order of bright and glorious 
spirits ; of those who once were " dead in trespasses 
and sins," who "walked according to the course of this 
world, according to the prince of the power of the air, 
the spirit that now worketh in the children of disobe- 
dience," but w T ho have been "quickened together with 
Christ, and raised up together with him, and made to 
sit together" with angels, and with the Lord of angels, 
"in heavenly places." Yet the angels scorn not such 
society; they reproach not the children of men with 
their fall ; they refuse not to receive them into their 
company. On the contrary, they rejoice when any 
shine?' repenteth ; they convey the departed Lazarus 
into Abraham's bosom ; they become " ministering 
spirits to the heirs of salvation;" they worship with 
them in the same adorations ; they answer in responsive 



The White-Robed Throng. 213 

chorus to their praises. What a model for the conduct 
and worship of the saints below ! 

The employment of that innumerable company is 
represented as that of praise to God and to the Lamb, 
who redeemed them and bought them with his blood. 
In other parts of the Sacred Writings, where the em- 
ployments of heaven are described, worship and praise 
are represented as the chief occupation. AVe are not, 
however, to infer from this, that the exclusive employ- 
ment is religious adoration ; for we know that the 
angels, being of a still higher order and more spiritual 
nature, are frequently engaged in active commissions 
to execute the will of God. What are the precise 
occupations of the spirits of the just made perfect, wo 
indeed know not ; nor could we, perhaps, comprehend 
them. It is sufficient for us to rest assured that they 
are occupied in that work for which they are best 
qualified. It is sufficient for us to know, that, what- 
ever the employments are which their Creator and 
Redeemer assigns to them, they arc such as must tend 
to produce the greatest happiness, and to excite new 
and continual praises to God: for, in every description 
which is given us of the heavenly world, it is the voice 
of incessant praise and thanksgiving wc hear; it is the 
overflowing of thankfulness for a state of exquisite 
enjoyment; it is the universal burst of gratitude, ex- 
tending from one boundary of heaven to the other. 
The voice of prayer itself is lost in the exultations of 
praise; the language "I' complaint is unknown; the 



214 Comfort. 

lamentations of sorrow, and th 
never heard. The happiness of that innumerable com- 
pany is described in the most glowing colours : " They 
shall hunger no more, nor thirst any more ; the sun 
shall not light on them" (to scorch them), "nor any 
heat" (molest them). "The Lamb which is in the 
midst of the throne, shall feed them, and shall lead 
them unto living fountains of water; and God shall 
wipe away all tears from their eyes." Here we see 
every source of evil, and even of inconvenience, 
removed, and every good bestowed, by the unrestrained 
bounty of Heaven. 

Descriptions of this kind must be figurative : but the 
figures are evidently intended to convey to us the 
highest possible conception of unqualified good, and the 
total absence of all evil. The remaining part of the 
description both manifests the nature and the source of 
the happiness which they enjoy. They are "before 
the throne of God, and serve him day and night in his 
temple : and He that sitteth on the throne shall dwell 
among them." The happiness Avhich they enjoy is, 
then, a refined and holy happiness. It is not the 
happiness of a Mahometan paradise, but such as is 
suited to spiritual beings of the highest order and most 
exalted taste. It is a happiness founded upon religion 
and devotion, upon near and intimate access to the 
Lord of life and glory. And let not this happiness be 
judged of by those who, far from having enjoyed 
pleasure arising from such a source, have, on the con- 



The White-Robed Throng. 



215 



trary, experienced from it only pain and restraint. 
They know not what religion is, nor are capable of 
appreciating its nature and excellence. To others, it 
will be sufficient to state, that religion is but another 
word for happiness. I do not mean this merely in the 
sense in which, without guarding them, the words may 
be understood, viz. that the effect produced by religion 
is happiness. I use the words literally ; and design to 
state, that religion itself, the act and exercise of it, is 
the purest and highest happiness. It may here be 
necessary to rectify the general definition of religion. 
Religion is not merely the worship of God, or the 
exercise of obedience : it is the union of the soul with 
God ; the conformity of the will with his will ; the 
enjoyment of communion with him ; and the transforma- 
tion of every faculty of the soul to his image and like- 
ness. Religion, here, is but the faint outline of this 
more sublime image of its nature ; the outward expres- 
sion of what it ought to be, and of what it is above. 
Now happiness arises from a frame of mind harmonizing 
with the objects which surround us. When the soul, 
therefore, is moulded into the perfect frame of religion 
in its most exalted state ; when every affection and 
every faculty are put in perfect tunc, and all are in 
unison with the divine Source of all good ; there must 
be happiness, arising from such a constitution, t lie most 
pure and perfect which a creature can enjoy. It is the 
happiness of God himself — of God, the source of all 
happiness. It is B State of mind in which that neccs- 



210 Comfort. 

sarily gives pleasure "which gives him pleasure ; in which 
there is a participation of his feelings; in "which the 
soul drinks at the fountain-head of all enjoyment ; in 
which the bliss of the Almighty becomes the bliss of 
his creatures. Thus religion and happiness are con- 
vertible terms. They are, in fact, one and the same 
thing : and it is not more impossible that God should 
be unhappy, than that his devout servants, dwelling 
near his throne, and " serving him day and night in his 
temple," should taste of misery. 

To what an exalted height of happiness and glory, is 
then that innumerable company advanced ! With what a 
glorious society do they hold communion ! In what noble 
employments are they engaged ; of what refined enjoy- 
ments do they partake ! Blessed spirits ! your lot is fixed ; 
your happiness is permanent and eternal. You will suffer 
pain or feel distress no more ; your minds are cleansed 
from every taint of sin ; your breasts are the everlast- 
ing abode of purity and joy. All around you is peace ; 
everything is concerted, by almighty wisdom and infi- 
nite goodness, to banish the very elements of evil ; to 
dispel the slightest shade of misery ; to pour around 
you, in luxuriant profusion — a profusion, designating 
the infinitely varied power of the Giver — all the richest 
stores of good. How unlike this is our present state ! 
what a different abode is this world below ! Here, fear 
and terror, danger and violence, pain and suffering, sin 
and remorse, misery and grief, poverty and labour, the 



The White-Robed Throng. 217 

curse and the frown of justice, have fixed their abode. 
But, though these clays be evil, give not way to despair. 
Let me now present to you this innumerable com- 
pany under a different aspect. Let me point out to 
you what was their former, as well as what is their 
present state. Once, these were « men of like passions 
with yourselves ; they have come out of great tribula- 
tion;" they once sighed and groaned under sufferings 
and sorrows, as deep and grievous as those by which any 
of you are afflicted. ! what an invaluable and sure 
source of consolation is it to every pious Christian 
suffering under the weight of worldly calamities, to 
direct his contemplation to this glorious host above ! 
Standing before the throne, and before the Lamb, 
clothed with white robes, and with palms in their hands, 
methinks they say to him, "We were once as you are ; 
we were assaulted by the same temptations, we were 
stricken by the same arrows, we drank deep of the 
same bitter cup, we combated with the same enemies, 
Ave felt all the sharpness and bitterness of the Christian 
warfare. Often were we ready to faint ; often we cried 
to God in an agony of grief, on the point of being 
swallowed up in despair. We felt all the weakness of 
our faith, and trembled under the infirmities of our com- 
mon nature. Faint not therefore in your course. 
Behold tin- cloud of witnesses surrounding you. With 
Mm' roice they bid you 'lift up the hands which hang 
down, and strengthen the weak knees.' Be strong, 

fear not; your God will come: lie will come with a 



218 Comfort. 

recompense, and save you." Let me conjure every 
weak, and every afflicted soul to contemplate these 
blessed inhabitants of heaven. How changed are 
they from what they once were ! praises incessantly 
occupy their tongues, which once breathed out only 
complaints, and told of fears and apprehensions. 
Not a complaint can you make which they have not 
made : not a temptation can you describe to which 
they were not exposed. All your weakness they felt : 
all your trials they endured. Some, like Lazarus, 
were afflicted with poverty : some, like Job, were 
plunged from the height of prosperity to the lowest 
depth of adversity ; some, like David, were harassed by 
severe persecutions ; some, like Lot, were vexed by the 
unrighteousness of those around them ; some, like Eli, 
were cursed with unrighteous children ; some, like Peter, 
were shut up in prison ; some, like Manasses, felt all 
the anguish of remorse ! some, like the apostles and the 
noble army of martyrs, were stoned or sawn asunder ; 
yet, now, their sufferings have been long forgotten, or 
are remembered only to bless God, who " counted them 
worthy to suffer for his name's sake." One moment 
spent in heaven effaces for ever the afflictions endured 
upon earth. ! look to them, then, and indulge the 
delightful hope that one day " God may wipe away all 
tears from your eyes," and compensate all your suffer- 
ings. For the better confirmation of your faith, let me 
lastly refer you to the means by which this wounderful 
change was accomplished in them. " They washed their 



The White-Robed Throng. 219 

robes, and made them white with the blood of the 
Lamb." They bear in their hands the palm, as an 
emblem of victory in the good fight of faith ; and they 
are clothed with white robes, to denote the purity of 
their hearts under the regenerating influence of the 
Holy Spirit. The first point to which our attention is 
here directed, is that "blood of the Lamb," in which 
their " robes have been washed and made white." This 
image is designed to show, that it was to the efficacy 
of the death of Christ they trusted as the atonement 
for their sins. Christ was to them the hope of glory ; 
that is, they founded all their hope of glory upon him. 
Their robes were formerly defiled and stained by sin ; 
but they were " washed, they were cleansed, they were 
justified, they were glorified," by Christ. He it was 
who gave them heaven, and who gave them the pre- 
paration for it. He is the Lord of the world above ; 
he has the "keys of death and hell ;" openeth, and no 
man shutteth ; he shutteth, and no man openeth. To 
him, trusting in his grace and mercy, they applied, as 
to the Saviour of mankind ; and he heard their cry, and 
was gracious and merciful unto them. He delivered 
tin-in out of the " terrible pit and the mire, and set their 
feet upon a rock." 

Behold then, the secret source of the wonderful 
change wrought in them — this grand translation from 
earth t<> heaven, from ruin to glory. The Son of 
God came down from heaven "to seek and to save 
those that were lost." They heard of his love; they 



220 Comfort. 

needed his power ; they approached him in faith ; 
they received him as their Lord ; and he acknowledged 
them as his disciples, interceded for them, delivered 
them out of their distress, and raised them to eternal 
glory. And is his arm shortened, that it cannot save ? 
Is his ear heavy, that it cannot hear ? Has he inter- 
mitted his gracious work? Are there no trophies of 
his power to be suspended in the kingdom of glory ? 
Yes ; he is " the same, yesterday, to-day, and for ever." 
Approach him, then, with true faith and fervent prayer ; 
"fight the good fight of faith," as they did, and you 
also shall receive the palm of victory. Seek for the 
sanctifying influence of the Spirit, and you shall re- 
ceive the robe of righteousness granted to them. 

Venn. 



The White-Robed Throng. 221 



Scriptural Selections. 

After this I beheld, and, lo, a great multitude, which no man 
could number, of all nations, and kindreds, and people, and tongues, 
stood before the throne, and before the Lamb, clothed with white 
robes, and palms in their hands ; 

And cried with a loud voice, saying, Salvation to our God which 
sitteth upon the throne, and unto the Lamb. 

And all the angels stood round about the throne, and about the 
elders and the four beasts, and fell before the throne on their faces, 
and worshipped God, 

Saying, Amen : Blessing, and glory, and wisdom, and thanksgiving, 
and honour, and power, and might, be unto our God for ever and 
ever. Amen. 

And one of the elders answered saying unto me, What are these 
which are arrayed in white robes ? and whence came they ? 

And I said unto him, Sir, thou knowest. And he said to me, 
These are they which came out of great tribulation, and have washed 
their robes, and made them white in the blood of the Lamb. 

Therefore are they before the throne of God, and serve him day 
and night in his temple : and he that sitteth on the throne shall dwell 
among them. 

They shall hunger no more, neither thirst any more ; neither shall 
the sun light on them, nor any heat. 

For the Lamb which is in the midst of the throne, shall feed them, 
and shall lead them unto living fountains of waters : and God shall 
wipe away all tears from their eyes. — Rev. vii. 9-17. 

And God shall wipe away all tears from their eyes : and there shall 
be no more death, neither sorrow, nor crying, neither shall there bo 
:uiv more pain : for the former things arc passed away. — Rev. xxi. 4. 



222 Comfort. 



Who are these in bright array? 

This innumerable throng, 
Round the altar, night and day 

Tuning their triumphant song? 
Worthy is the Lamb once slain, 

Blessing, honour, glory, power, 
Wisdom, riches, to obtain ; 

New dominion every hour. 

These through fiery trials trod ; 

These from great affliction came ; 
Now before the throne of God, 

Sealed with his eternal Name : 
Clad in raiment pure and white, 

Victor palms in every hand, 
Through their great Redeemer's might 

More than conquerors they stand. 

Hunger, thirst, disease unknown. 

On immortal fruits they feed ; 
Then the Lamb amidst the throne 

Shall to living fountains lead ; 
Joy and gladness banish sighs ; 

Perfect love dispels their fears ; 
And, for ever from their eyes 

God shall wipe away their tears. 



LEANING ON THE BELOVED. 



i. 

Christ a Man of Sorrows. 

"Be is despised and rejected of men ; a man of sorrows, and acquainted tcith grief: and tee Md at 
it were our faces from him ; he was despised, and we esteemed him not. Surely he hath borne our 
griefs, and carried our sorrows. Tet we did esteem him stricken, smitten of God, and afflicted. But 
he was wounded for our transgressions, he was bruised for our iniquities ; the chastisement of our 
peace was upon him, and with his stripes we arc healed. All tee like sheep have gone astray ; we have 
turned every one to his own way; and the Lord hath laid on him the iniquity of us all. Be was 
oppressed, and he was afflicted, yet he opened not his mouth ; he is brought as a Lamb to the slaughter; 
and as a sheep before her shearers is dumb, so he opened not his mouth. — Isaiah, liu. 3-7. 

IT has been supposed by many, that the sufferings of 
our Lord were rather apparent than real ; or at least 
that his abundant consolations, and his knowledge of the 
happy consequences which would result from his death, 
rendered his sorrows comparatively light, and almost 
converted them to joys. But never was supposition more 
erroneous. Jesus Christ was as truly a man as either of 
us, and, as man, he was as really susceptible of grief, as 
keenly alive to pain and reproach, and as much averse 
from shame and suffering, as any of the descendants of 
Adam. As to divine consolations and supports, they 
were at all times bestowed on him in a very sparing man- 
ner, and in the season of his greatest extremity entirely 
withheld ; and though a knowledge of the happy conse- 
quences which would result from his sufferings, rendered 
29 (--'"') 



226 Leaning on the Beloved. 

him willing to endure them, it did not, in the smallest 
degree, take off their edge, or render him insensible to 
pain. No, his sufferings, instead of being less, were in- 
comparably greater than they appeared to be. No finite 
mind can conceive of their extent ; nor was any of the 
human race ever so well entitled to the appellation of 
the Man of Sorrows, as the man Christ Jesus. His suf- 
ferings began with his birth, and ended but with his life. 
In the first place, it must have been extremely painful 
to such a person as Christ, to live in a world like this. He 
was perfectly holy, harmless, and undefiled. Of course, 
he could not look on sin, but with the deepest abhorrence. 
It is that abominable thing which his soul hates. Yet 
during the whole period of his residence on earth, he was 
continually surrounded by it, and his feelings were every 
moment tortured with the hateful sight of human depra- 
vity. How much sorrow the sight occasioned him, we may 
in some measure learn from the bitter complaints which 
similar causes extorted from David, Jeremiah, and other 
ancient saints. They described, in the most striking 
and pathetic language, the sufferings which they experi- 
enced from the prevalency of wickedness around them, 
and often wished for death to relieve them from their 
sufferings. But the sufferings of Christ from this cause 
were incomparably greater than theirs. He was far more 
holy than they, his hatred of sin incomparably more in- 
tense, and the sight of it proportionably more painful. 
In consequence of his power of searching the heart, he saw 
unspeakably more sin in the world, than any mere man 
could discover. We can discover sin only when it displays 



Christ a Man of Sorrows. 



J27 



itself in words and actions. But he saw all the hidden 
wickedness of the heart, the depths of that fountain of 
iniquity, from which all the hitter streams of vice and 
misery flow. Every man that approached him was 
transparent to his eye. In his best friends he saw 
more sin than we can discover in the most abandoned 
reprobates. He saw also, in a far clearer light than 
we can do, the dreadful consequences of sin, the 
interminable miseries to which it is conducting the 
sinner ; and his feelings of compassion were not blunted 
by that selfish insensibility which enables us to bear 
with composure the sight of human distress. On the 
contrary, he was all sympathy, compassion, and love. 
He loved others as himself, and therefore felt for the 
sufferings of others as for his own. If Paul could say, 
Who is weak, and I am not weak ? who is offended, and 
I burn not ? much more might Christ. In this, as well 
as in a still more important sense, he took upon himself 
our griefs, and bore our sorrows. As he died for all, 
so he felt and wept for the sufferings of all. The 
temporal and eternal calamities of the whole human 
race, and of every individual among them, all seemed to 
be collected and laid upon him. He saw at one view 
the whole mighty aggregate of human guilt and human 
wretchedness ; and his boundless benevolence and com- 
passion made it by sympathy all his own. It has been 
said by philosophers, thai if any man could see all the 
misery which is daily felt in the world, he would never 
smile again. We need not wonder then that Christ, 



228 Leaning on the Beloved. 

who saw and felt it all, never smiled, though he often 
wept. We may add, that the perfegt contrast between 
the heavens which he had left, and the world into which 
he came, rendered a residence in the latter peculiarly 
painful to his feelings. In heaven he had seen nothing 
but holiness and happiness and love. In this world, on 
the contrary, he saw little but wickedness and hatred 
and misery, in ten thousand forms. In heaven he was 
crowned with glory and honour and majesty, and sur- 
rounded by throngs of admiring, adoring angels. On 
earth, he found himself plunged in poverty, wretched- 
ness, and contempt, and surrounded by malignant, 
implacable enemies. My friends, think of a prince, 
educated with care and tenderness in his father's court, 
where he heard nothing but sounds of pleasure and 
praise, and saw nothing but scenes of honour and 
magnificence, sent unattended to labour as a slave in a 
rebellious province, where himself and his father were 
hated and despised; think of a person of the most 
delicate and refined taste, going from the bosom of his 
family and the magnificent abodes of a polished city, to 
spend his life in the filthy huts of the most degraded 
and barbarous savages, and compelled daily to witness 
the disgusting scenes of cruelty and brutality which are 
there exhibited; think of a man endowed with the 
tenderest sensibility, compelled to live on a field of 
battle, among the corpses of the dead and the groans 
of the dying, or shut up for years in a madhouse with 
wretched maniacs, where nothing was to be heard but 



Christ a Man op Sorrows. 229 

the burst of infuriated passions, the wild laugh of 
madness, and the shrieks and ravings of despair. 
Think of these instances, and you will have some con- 
ception, though but a faint one, of the scenes which 
this world presented to our Saviour, of the contrast 
between it and the heaven he left, of the sorrows which 
embittered every moment of his earthly existence, and 
of the love which induced him voluntarily to submit to 
such sorrows. 

Another circumstance which contributed to render 
our Saviour a man of sorrows, and his life a life of 
grief, was the reception he met with from those whom 
he came to save. Had they received him with that 
gratitude and respect which he deserved, and permitted 
him to rescue them from their miseries, it would have 
been some alleviation of his sorrows. But even this 
alleviation was in a great measure denied him. Some 
few, indeed, received him with affection and respect, 
though even they often grieved him by their unkind- 
ncss and unbelief; but by far the greater part of his 
countrymen he was treated with the utmost cruelty and 
contempt. Many of them would not allow him even to 
remove their bodily diseases, and still greater numbers 
were unwilling that he should save them from their 
sins. Now to a noble, ingenuous mind, nothing is so 
cutting, so torturing as such conduct. To see himself 
despised, slandered, and persecuted with implacable 
malice, by the very beings whom he was labouring to 
save; to »ee .-ill his endeavours to Bave them, frustrated 



230 Leaning on the Beloved. 

by their own incorrigible folly and wickedness ; to see 
them by rejecting him filling up to the brim their cup 
of criminality and wrath, and sinking into eternal per- 
dition within reach of his vainly-offered hand, — to see 
this, must have been distressing indeed. Yet this 
Christ saw. Thus he endured the contradiction of 
sinners against himself; and how deeply it affected him, 
we may infer from the fact, that though his own suffer- 
ings never wrung from him a tear, he once and again 
wept in the bitterness of his soul over rebellious Jerusa- 
lem, exclaiming, that thou hadst known, even thou 
at least in this thy day, the things that belong to thy 
peace ; but now they are hid from thine eyes ! 

Another circumstance that threw a shade of gloom 
and melancholy over our Saviour's life, was his clear 
view, and constant anticipation of the dreadful agonies 
in which it was to terminate. He was not ignorant, as 
we happily are, of the miseries which were before him. 
He could not hope, as we do, when wretched to-day, to 
be happier to-morrow. Every night, when he lay down 
to rest, the scourge, the crown of thorns, and the cross, 
were present to his mind ; and on these dreadful objects 
he every morning opened his eyes, and every morning 
saw them nearer than before. Every day was to him 
like the day of his death, of such a death too, as no one 
ever suffered before or since. How deeply the prospect 
affected him, is evident from his own language : I have 
a baptism to be baptized with, and how am I straitened 
till it be accomplished ! 



Christ a Man or Sorrows. 231 

Such are the circumstances which prove that our 
Saviour was, during life, a man of sorrows. Of the 
sorrows of his death we shall say nothing. The bitter 
agonies of that never-to-be-forgotten hour, the torturing 
scourge, the lacerating nails, and the racking cross, we 
shall pass in silence. Nor shall we now bring into view 
the tenfold horrors which overwhelmed his soul, render- 
ing it exceedingly sorrowful, even unto death. These 
we have often attempted to describe to you, though 
here description must always fail. Enough has been 
said to show the justice of that exclamation which the 
Prophet utters in the person of Christ : " Behold and 
see, all ye that pass by, if there be any sorrow like my 
sorrow. Beproach hath broken my heart, and I am 
full of heaviness. I looked for some to pity, but there 
was none; for comforters, but I found none." 

What was our Saviour's conduct under the pressure 
of these sorrows ? " He was oppressed and afflicted, 
yet he opened not his mouth. He was brought as a 
lamb to the slaughter, and as a sheep before her 
shearers is dumb, so he opened not his mouth." Never 
was language more descriptive of the most perfect 
meekness and patience ; never was prediction more fully 
justified by the event than in the case before us. 
Christ was indeed led as a lamb to the slaughter. 
Silent, meek, and unrcpining, he stood before his 
butchers, at once innocent and patient as a lamb. No 
murmurs, no complaints, no angry recriminations 
escaped from his lips. If they were opened, it was but 



232 Leaning on the Beloved. 

to express the most perfect submission to his Father's 
will, and to breathe out prayers for his murderers. 
Yes, even at that dreadful moment, when they were 
nailing him to the cross, when nature, whose voice will 
at such a time be heard, was shuddering and convulsed 
in the prospect of a speedy and violent death ; when his 
soul was tortured by the assaults of malignant fiends, 
and his Father's face hidden from his view ; even then 
he possessed his soul in patience to such a degree, 
as to be able to pray for his murderers. We 
must attempt to bring the scene more fully to your 
view. Come with us, a moment, to Calvary. See the 
meek sufferer, standing with hands fast bound in the 
midst of his enemies ; sinking under the weight of his 
cross, and lacerated in every part by the thorny rods 
with which he had been scourged. See the savage, 
ferocious soldiers seizing with rude violence, his sacred 
body, forcing it down upon the cross, Arresting and 
extending his limbs, and with remorseless cruelty 
forcing through his hands and feet the ragged spikes 
which were to fasten him on it. See the Jewish priests 
and rulers watching with looks of malicious pleasure 
the horrid scene, and attempting to increase his suffer- 
ings by scoffs and blasphemies. Now contemplate 
attentively the countenance of the wonderful Sufferer, 
which seems like heaven opening in the midst of hell, 
and tell me what it expressed. You see it indeed full 
of anguish, but it expresses nothing like impatience, 
resentment, or revenge. On the contrary, it beams 



Christ a Man of Sorrows. 



233 



with pity, benevolence, and forgiveness. It perfectly 
corresponds with the prayer, which, raising his mild, im- 
ploring eye to heaven, he pours forth to God: "Father, 
forgive them, for they know not what they do !" 
Christian, look at your Master, and learn how to suffer. 
Sinner, look at your Saviour, and learn to admire, to 
imitate, and to forgive. But why, it may be naturally 
asked, why is this patient innocent sufferer thus 
afflicted ? Why, in his life, in his death, is he thus 
emphatically a man of sorrows ? To this question our 
text returns an answer, and an answer which ought to 
sink deep into our hearts ; for in it we are all most 
deeply interested : " He was wounded for our trans- 
gressions, he was bruised for our inicpuities ; the 
chastisement of our peace was upon him ; by his stripes 
we are healed. We all like sheep have gone astray ; 
we have turned every one to his own way, and the 
Lord hath laid on him the iniquity of us all." Here, 
we see the true cause of our Saviour's unparalleled 
sufferings. He was cut off, says the Prophet, but 
not for himself. He knew no sin, but he was made 
sin, made a curse for us. We have all strayed from 
the path of duty. Yes, you and I, and all our race, 
have forsaken the God that made us, and chosen the 
path that leads to hell. God's violated law condemned 
us to die. Justice demanded the execution of the 
sentence. There was apparently no remedy. It is 
true that God, as our Creator and Father, was suffi- 
ciently inclined to spare us ; but truth and justice for- 
30 



234 Leaning on the Beloved. 

bade him to do it, unless a suitable atonement could be 
found. There was but one individual in the universe 
who could make such an atonement, and that being, 
prompted by infinite compassion, offered himself for 
this purpose. The Father, with equal love, accepted 
the offer. To carry it into effect, the Son assumed our 
nature, and appeared on earth ; and the bitter cup, 
■which the divine law condemned us to drink, was put 
into his hand, and he drank it to the last drop. We 
were condemned to live a life of sorrow and pain, and 
therefore he lived such a life. We were condemned to 
shame and everlasting contempt ; and therefore he hid 
not his face from shame and spitting. We were con- 
demned to die under the curse ; and therefore he died 
the accursed death of the cross : We were condemned 
to lose the favour and endure the wrath of God; and 
therefore Christ was forsaken by his Father in the 
agonies of death. We were condemned to perish with- 
out mercy ; and therefore Christ had no mercy, no pity 
shown him in his last moments. We were condemned 
to remain under the power of death, till by satisfying 
divine justice we could restore ourselves to life ; and 
therefore Christ remained in the grave till he had made 
full satisfaction, and then resumed the life he had laid 
down. Thus he bore our sins, or, what is the same, 
the punishment of our sins in his own body on the tree, 
that we being dead unto sin, might live unto God. 

What was the manner in which Christ was treated, 
when he thus came as a man of sorrows to atone for 



Christ a Man of Sorrow 



our sins 



? He is despised and rejected of men. We 
hid as it were our faces from him ; he was despised, and 
we esteemed him not. How literally this prediction 
was fulfilled, we have already seen. Yet who but an 
inspired prophet would have predicted that such would 
be the reception of such a person, coming from heaven 
on such a design ? We should naturally expect that he 
would be received with the most lively emotions and 
demonstrations of grateful joy, by the beings whom he 
came to save. Even after we were told that, instead 
of thus receiving, they rejected and condemned him, 
we should have expected that when they saw his lamb- 
like patience and meekness, and heard him praying for 
his murderers, they would have relented and spared 
him. And when this could not prevail, we should have 
hoped that the miracles which attended his crucifixion, 
and especially his resurrection from the dead, would 
convince them of their error, and cause them to relent. 
But none of these things, nor all of them united, could 
conquer the inveterate malice of his enemies. Living 
and dying, rising and reigning, he was still despised 
and rejected of men. Neither his miracles, nor his 
sorrows, nor his meekness, nor his patience, could 
Bhield him from hatred and contempt. But what was 
his crime ? What had he dune ? I answer, he Avas 
good ; he dared to speak the truth ; he reproved men 
for their sins, h€ testified to the world that its deeds 
were evil ; above all, he bore the image of God, of that 
God whom sinners hate. These were crimes never to 



236 Leaning on the Beloved. 

be forgiven ; crimes, for which nothing but his blood 
could atone ; crimes, which in their view rendered him 
unworthy of that commiseration which men usually feel 
for the vilest malefactors when in the agonies of death. 
Nor were those who treated him in this manner, worse 
than the rest of mankind. As in water face answereth 
to face, so the heart of man to man. The truth of this 
assertion is abundantly proved by the manner in which 
all succeeding generations have treated Christ. He 
has always been despised and rejected of men ; and he 
is so still. It is true, he has long since ascended to 
heaven, and therefore cannot be the immediate object 
of their attacks. But his gospel and his servants are 
still in the world ; and the manner in which they are 
treated, is sufficient evidence, that the feelings of the 
natural heart toward Christ are not materially different 
from those of the Jews. Every man, who voluntarily 
neglects to confess Christ before men, and to com- 
memorate his dying love, must say, either that he 
does not choose to do it, or that he is not prepared 
to do it. Now if a man says, I do not choose to confess 
Christ, he certainly rejects him. If he does not choose 
to remember Christ, he certainly chooses to forget him. 
If he is unwilling to bind himself to live such a life as 
a profession of religion requires, he certainly loves sin 
better than he does his Saviour. On the other hand, if 
any one shall say, I wish to come to the table of Christ, 
but am not prepared, he expressly avows himself an 
enemy of Christ, for all his friends are fully prepared 



Christ a Man op Sorrows. 237 

to approach his table ; and those who are not his friends 
are his enemies ; for Christ has said, " He that is not 
■with me is against me." For a man to say, I am not 
prepared to come to Christ's table, is the same as to 
say, I do not repent of sin, I do not believe in or love 
Christ ; I am not willing to live a prayerful, watchful, 
religious life. Nor are those who come to Christ's 
table without obeying his commands, less guilty of 
rejecting Christ. We find in the parable of the mar- 
riage, that he who came in without a wedding garment 
was excluded, as well as those who refused to come. 
To sum up all in a word, it is certain that all "who do 
not receive the instructions of Christ with the temper 
of a little child, reject him, as a prophet. All who do 
not trust in his merits alone for salvation reject him as 
a Saviour ; and all who do not habitually and sincerely 
obey his commands, reject him as a king. This being 
the case, the conduct of multitudes among us fully 
justifies us in asserting, that Christ is still despised 
and rejected of men. 

Was Christ a man of sorrows and acquainted with 
grief? Then we need not be surprised or offended, if 
we arc often called to drink of the cup of sorrows ; if 
we find the world a vale of tears. This is one of the 
w:tys in which we must be conformed to our glorious 
Head. Indeed, his example has sanctified grief, and 
almosl made it pleasant to mourn. One would think, 
that Christians could scarcely wish to go rejoicing 

through a world which their Master passed through 



238 Leaning on the Beloved. 

mourning. The path in "which we follow him is bedewed 
with his tears and stained with his blood. It is true, 
that from the ground thus watered and fertilized many 
rich flowers and fruits of paradise spring up to refresh 
us, in which we may and ought to rejoice. But still 
our joy should be softened and sanctified by godly 
sorrow. When we are partaking of the banquet which 
his love has spread for us, we should never forget how 
dearly it was purchased. 

"There's not a gift his hand bestows, 
But cost his heart a groan." 

The joy, the honour, the glory through eternity shall 
be ours ; but the sorrows, the sufferings, the agonies 
which purchased them were all his own. 

Was Christ wounded for our transgressions ; were the 
iniquities of all his people laid upon him ; then, surely, 
our iniquities shall never be laid upon us. He has 
borne and carried them away. He was made sin 
for us, that we might be made the righteousness of 
God in him. Away then with all guilty unbelieving 
fears. Whatever your sorrows or trials may be, he 
knows by experience how to sympathize with you. 
Has your Heavenly Father forsaken you, so that you 
walk in darkness and see no light ? He well remem- 
bers what he felt, when he cried, "My God, my God, 
why hast thou forsaken me ?" Has Satan wounded you 
with his fiery darts ? He remembers how sorely his 
own heart was bruised when he wrestled with princi- 



Christ a Man of Sorrows. 239 

palities and powers, and crushed the head of the prince 
of darkness. Are you pressed down with a complica- 
tion of sorrows, so as to despair even of life ? The soul 
of Christ was once exceeding sorrowful, even unto 
death. Are you mourning for the danger of unbeliev- 
ing friends ? Christ's own brethren did not believe in 
him. Does the world persecute and despise you, or 
are your enemies those of your own household ? Christ 
was despised and rejected of men, and his own relations 
stigmatized him as a madman. Are you suffering under 
slanderous and unjust accusations ? Christ was called 
a man gluttonous, and a wine-bibber, a friend of 
publicans and sinners. Are you struggling with the 
evils of poverty ? Jesus had not where to lay his head. 
Do Christian friends forsake or treat you unkindly ? 
Christ was denied and forsaken by his own disciples. 
Are you distressed with fears of death ? Christ has 
entered the dark valley that he might destroy death. 
0, then, banish all your fears. Look at your merciful 
High Priest who is passed unto the heavens, and 
triumphantly exclaim with the apostle, Who shall 

separate us from the love of Christ ? 

Patson. 



240 Leaning on the Beloved. 



ScRirrcRAL Selections. 

Who hath believed our report? and to whom is the arm of the 
Lord revealed ? 

For he shall grow up before him as a tender plant and as a root out 
of a dry ground : he hath no form nor comeliness ; and when we shall 
see him, there is no beauty that we should desire him. 

He is despised and rejected of men ; a man of sorrows, and ac- 
quainted with grief; and we hid as it were our faces from him: he 
was despised, and we esteemed him not. 

Surely he hath borne our griefs, and carried our sorrows ; yet we 
did esteem him stricken, smitten of God, and afflicted. 

But he was wounded for our transgressions, he was bruised for our 
iniquities : the chastisement of our peace was upon him ; and with his 
stripes we are healed. 

All we, like sheep, have gone astray ; we have turned evei-y one to 
his own way ; and the Lord hath laid on him the iniquity of us all. 

He was oppressed, and he was afflicted; yet he opened not his 
mouth; he is brought as a lamb to the slaughter, and as a sheep 
before her shearers is dumb, so he opened not his mouth. 

He was taken from prison and from judgment: and who shall 
declare his generation ? for he was cut off out of the land of the liv- 
ing ; for the transgression of my people was he stricken. 

And he made his grave with the wicked, and with the rich in his 
death ; because he had done no violence, neither was any deceit in 
his mouth. 

Yet it pleased the Lord to bruise him ; he hath put him to grief: 
when thou shalt make his soul an offering for sin, he shall see his seed, 
he shall proloDg his days, and the pleasure of the Lord shall prosper 
in his hand. 

He shall see of the travail of his soul, and shall be satisfied : by his 
knowledge shall my righteous servant justify many : for he shall bear 
their iniquities. — Isaiah liii. 1-11. 



Christ a Man of Sorrows. 241 



Looking unto Jesus. 

Thou who didst stoop below, 

To drain the cups of woe, 
Wearing the form of frail mortality, — 

Thy blessed labours done, 

Thy crown of victory won, 
Hast passed from earth — passed to thy home on high. 

Man may no longer trace, 

In thy celestial face, 
The image of the bright, the viewless One ; 

Nor may thy servants hear, 

Save with faith's raptured ear, 
Thy voice of tenderness, God's holy Son ! 

Our eyes behold thee not ; 

Yet hast thou not forgot, 
Those who have placed their hope, their trust in thee : 

Before thy Father's face 

Thou hast prepared a place, 
That where thou art, there they may also be. 

It was no path of flowers, 

Through this dark world of ours, 
Beloved of the Father, thou didst tread; 

And "hall we in dismay 

Shrink from the narrow way. 
When clondf and darkneBE are aronnd it Bpread? 
81 



242 Leaning on tue Beloved. 

0, tbou, who art our life, 

Be with us through the strife ! 
"Was not thy head by earth's fierce tempests bowed ? 

Raise thou our eyes above, 

To see a Father's love 
Beam, like the bow of promise, through the cloud. 

Even through the awful gloom 

Which hovers o'er the tomb, 
That light of love our guiding star shall be ; 

Our spirits shall not dread 

The shadowy way to tread, 
Friend, Guardian, Saviour, which doth lead to thee. 







" 






II. 
Christ at Bethany. 



" Then said Martha unto Jesus, Lord, if tlwu hadst been here, my brother had not 'died 

Then when Mary was come where Jesus was, and saw him, she fell down at his feet, saying unto him, 
Lord, if thou hadst been here, my brother had not died."— John, xi. 21, 32. 

IT is better," says the wise man, "to go to the house 
of mourning than to go to the house of feasting : for 
that is the end of all men ; and the living will lay it to 
his heart. Sorrow is better than laughter : for by the 
sadness of the countenance the heart is made better. 
The heart of the wise is in the house of mourning : but 
the heart of fools is in the house of mirth." If this be 
true generally of the effect which should be produced by 
familiarizing the heart with the devout contemplation 
of death, and of the grief which death occasions, it must 
be especially true when we have Jesus as our companion. 
It was our Lord's custom, in his visits to Jerusalem, 
to retire in the evenings, after the toils and trials of his 
daily ministry in the temple, to the quiet village of 
Bethany, and the peaceful abode of Lazarus, that he 
might there repose amid the holy endearments of a con- 
genial family circle. That house is now the house of 
mourning. Let us visit it in the company of Jesus, and 
observe how he is received there, and how bis presence 
cheers the gloom. 

(248) 



244 Leaning on the Beloved. 

The sisters, Martha and Mary, greet him with the 
same pathetic salutation, " Lord, if thou hadst been 
here, my brother had not died ;" and this might seem 
to indicate an entire similarity in their sorrow. But if 
we look a little closer, we see a striking difference of 
demeanour, corresponding to the marked difference of 
their characters generally. And this difference is marked 
in our Lord's different treatment of them. In every 
view it is an interesting study, from which we may learn, 
in the first place, How much sameness there is in grief; 
secondly, How much variety ; and, lastly, How much 
compass there is in the consolation of Christ, as capable 
of being adapted to all varieties of grief — to grief of 
every mould and of every mood. We speak chiefly 
throughout of the grief of true Christians ; for we think 
we are warranted in assuming that, notwithstanding 
their great contrast in respect of natural temperament, 
the two sisters were partakers of the same grace. 

At present, we advert to the similarity of their com- 
mon sorrow — the sameness of their grief. For it is 
remarkable, that two persons so different in their turn 
of mind, as we shall afterwards see that these sisters 
were — so apt to view things in different lights, and to 
be affected by them with different feelings — should both 
utter the same words on first meeting the Lord Jesus — 
« Lord, if thou hadst been here, my brother had not 
died." It shows how natural such a reflection is in such 
a season — how entirely the heart, when deeply moved, 
is the same in all — and how much all grief is alike. 



Christ at Bethany. 



245 



The sisters, however otherwise dissimilar, were united 
in their fond affection for their departed brother, as well 
as in their grateful reliance on that divine friend " who 
loved Martha, and her sister, and Lazarus." They had 
sat and watched together beside their brother's bed of 
sickness. They joined together in sending unto Jesus, 
saying, "Lord, behold, he whom thou lovest is sick." 
In their distress they both thought of the same remedy, 
and applied to the same physician. It was a joint peti- 
tion that they despatched, and they did not doubt that 
it would prevail. Together they waited anxiously for 
his coming. They reckoned the very earliest moment 
when he could arrive ; and as they looked on their bro- 
ther's languid eye, and saw him sinking every hour and 
wasting away, ah ! they thought, how soon their bene- 
factor might appear, and all might yet be well. But 
moments and hours rolled on, and no Saviour came. 
Wearisome days and nights were appointed to them. 
Often did they look out and listen ; often did they fancy 
that they heard the expected sound, and the well-known 
accents of kindness seemed to fall upon their ears. But 
still he came not. Ah ! what were their anxious thoughts, 
their earnest communings, their fond prayers, that life 
might be prolonged at least for a little longer, to give 
one other chance, one other opportunity, for the inter- 
position of Him who was mighty to save even from the 
gates of death ; and h<>\\ were I beir <>w □ hearts sickened, 
as theywfcispered to the sick man a faint hope, to which 
they could scarcely themselves any longer cling. Still 



246 Leaning on the Beloved. 

the time rolls slowly on. The last ray of expectation 
is extinguished ; the dreaded hour is come ; it is over ; 
their brother has fallen asleep ; Lazarus is dead. 

And now four days are past and gone since he has 
been laid in the silent tomb. The first violence of grief 
is giving place to the more calm, but far more bitter 
pain of a desolate and dreary sadness ; — the prolonged 
sense of bereavement which recollection brings along 
with it, and which everything around serves to aggra- 
vate and embitter. The house of mourning, after the 
usual temporary excitement, is still, — it is the melan- 
choly stillness of the calm, darkly brooding over the 
wrecks of the recent storm, — and amid the real kindness 
of sympathizing friends, and the formal attentions of 
officious strangers, the sisters, as each familiar object 
recalls the past, are soothing, or suppressing, as best 
they may, those bitter feelings which their own hearts 
alone can know — when suddenly they are told that Jesus 
is at hand. 

He is come at last, but he is come too late. His 
having come at all, however, is a comfort. He is wel- 
come as their own and their brother's friend ; he is wel- 
come as their Lord. They never doubt his friendship ; 
they question not his willingness, or his power, to do 
them good. But still, as they meet him, they cannot 
but look back on the few days that are gone ; and as all 
their anxieties and alarms, their longing hopes and cruel 
disappointments, rush again upon their minds, they are 
constrained to give utterance to the crowded emotions 



Christ at Bethany. 247 

of their hearts in the irrepressible exclamation — » Lord, 
if thou hadst been here, niy brother had not died." 

It is the voice of nature that speaks in these words — 
the voice of our common nature mingling its vain regrets 
■with the resignation of sincere and simple faith. 

There is here, first, the feeling that the event might 
have been otherwise ; — " If thou hadst been here, my 
brother had not died." We know not what has detained 
thee. Some call of duty may have prevented thee from 
coming ; or, perhaps, our message did not reach thee in 
time ; or it may have been some merely casual circum- 
stance that hindered thee. If this sickness had hap- 
pened but a little sooner, when thou wast in Jerusalem 
at the feast ; — or if we had taken alarm early enough, 
so as to send for thee before our brother was so ill ; — 
or if our messenger had been more expeditious, and had 
used more despatch ; — or if we had but been able to 
lengthen out, by our care, our brother's sickness for a 
single week ; — had we not been so unfortunate in the 
occurrence of this evil just when it did occur ; or had 
we, when it occurred, used more diligence, and taken 
better precautions; — then thou mightst have been here, 
and '• if thou hadst been here, our brother had not died." 

Is it not thus that the heart speaks under every try- 
ing dispensation ? Is it not thus that an excited imagi- 
nation whispers to the forlorn soul? Who lias over 
met with any affliction — who has ever lost any beloved 
brother or dear friend, — without cherishing some such 
reflection as this? [f such or such a measure had been 



248 Leaning on the Beloved. 

adopted ; if such or such an accident had not happened ; 
if it had not been for this unaccountable oversight, or 
that unforeseen and unavoidable mischance ; so grievous 
a calamity would not have befallen me ; — my brother 
would not have died. 

Alas ! and is not the reflection, however natural, a 
sinful and sad delusion, — proceeding upon a very limited 
view of the power and the providence of God our Saviour ? 
How did these sisters know that, if Jesus had been there, 
their brother would not have died? How could they 
tell whether he might not have ends to serve, which 
would have required that, even though he had been 
there, he must have permitted him to die ? And were 
they not aware that, though he was not there, yet, if 
he had so chosen and so ordered it, their brother would 
not have died ? Had they not heard of his being able, 
at the distance of many a long mile, to effect an imme- 
diate and complete cure ? Did they not believe that he 
had but to speak, and it would be done ; he had but to 
say the word, and, however far off he was, his friend 
and their brother would be healed ? Ah ! they had for- 
gotten who it was to whom they made this most touch- 
ing and pathetic appeal ; that he was one who, though 
not actually present, could have restored their brother 
if it had been consistent with his wise and holy will ; 
and who, even if he had been present, might have seen 
fit, for the best reasons, to suffer him to die. 

And are not these the very truths concerning him 
which you in your distress are tempted to forget, when 



Christ at Bethany. 249 

you dwell so much on secondary circumstances and 
causes, instead of at once and immediately recognising 
his will as supreme ? You are overtaken by misfortune ; 
tou are overwhelmed in the depths of sorrow. You 
ascribe your suffering to what seems to be its direct 
occasion ; — whether it be your own neglect of some pre- 
caution which you might have taken, had you thought 
of it in time ; or the fault of others, with whose skill or 
diligence your dearest hopes were inseparably con- 
nected ; or something perhaps, in the course of events, 
over which neither you nor they could have any control. 
You fix upon the very date, the very scene, when and 
where your brother's doom seems to have been sealed : 
and you think that, if you had but suspected what was 
about to be the issue, or if the help which you now see 
would have been available had then been within your 
reach ; if you had been warned in time, or had taken 
the warning, or had been able to employ the right means 
of escape, — you might not now have been left discon- 
solate ; your beloved one might still have been spared 
to cheer you with his smiles, and share with you all 
your cares ; — your brother might not have died. 

So you are apt to think and feel. But however natu- 
ral the thought — is it not in reality the very lolly of 
unbelief — the dream of a soul forgetting that the Lord 
reigneth? What ! is it come to this, that you conceive 
of Him ;i~ limited by events which he himself ordainf — 

a- tie- Blave of bis OWn laws? Yon think thai if a cer- 
tain obstacle had nut come in to prevent relief, the 

:;-2 



250 Leaning on the Beloved. 

calamity you bewail might not have happened. But, 
notwithstanding that obstacle, might he not, if he had 
seen fit, have found means to avert the calamity ? And 
are you sure that, even if the obstacle had been removed, 
he might not have seen fit still to let the calamity come ? 
"If thou hadst been here," say the mourning sisters, 
" our brother had not died." Nay, he might have 
answered, I could have been here if it had seemed good 
to me ; and, though I was not here, I might have kept 
your brother alive ; and, though I had been here, I 
might have allowed him to die. 

Look, ye afflicted ones, beyond second causes, to Him 
who is the first cause of all things ! Believe, and be 
sure that the circumstances which you regret as the 
occasion of your misfortune, are but the appointed means 
of bringing about what he determines. If evil come 
upon you, if your brother die, it is not because this or 
that accident prevented relief; it is not because He was 
not with you in sufficient time, but because it was his 
will. Be still, and know that he is God ! 

But farther, secondly, there may be in this address 
of the sisters somewhat of the feeling, that the event 
not only might, but should have been otherwise. There 
is at least an intimation of their having expected that 
the event would have been otherwise. " If thou hadst 
been here, our brother had not died." And why wert 
thou not here ? We sent to thee — we sent a special 
message — a special prayer — and surely thou mightest 
have been persuaded to come. Ah ! why didst thou 



Christ at Bethany. 251 

linger for two whole days after tidings of our threatened 
loss reached thee ? Why didst thou not make haste to 
help us ? We could not believe that thou wouldst have 
treated us thus. Thou wast not unmindful of us before. 
Thou didst regard us as friends. Thou didst bless our 
house with thy presence ; making it thy resting-place, 
thy home. Thou didst choose us before thine own kins- 
men. Thou didst select our brother as the object of 
thine especial affection. And we thought it would have 
been enough to touch thy heart simply to send to thee, 
saying, " He whom thou lovest is sick," — that thou 
hadst but to hear of his illness to rush at once to his 
relief. True, we had no right to dictate to thee, and 
now we have no right to complain. But we cannot help 
feeling that if thou hadst been here our brother had not 
died ; and that surely thou mightest have been here. 
It was not so very great a favour that was asked of 
thee ; and was he not worthy for whom thou shouldst 
do this ? He loved thee — he trusted in thee ; and thou 
mightest have come, if not to preserve his life, at least 
to soothe and satisfy his dying hours. He looked for 
thee, and thou didst not appear. To the very last he 
waited for thee, and thou didst hide thyself. He missed 
thee, and he was not comforted. 

Such arc the instinctive complaints of nature in a sea- 
son of sore trial, of bitter bereavement. Thus does the 
wounded bouI rise against the stroke that pierces it, and 
turn round upon the hand that smites it. It is very 
hard for flesh and blood to believe, in regard to any 



252 



Leaning on the Beloved. 



crushing load of woe, that it is God who directly and 
immediately ordains it. It is far harder to believe, that 
in ordaining it he does not do wrong. Simply to be 
still, and know that he is God, is no easy exercise of 
resignation. To be sure that he doeth right, that he 
doeth well, is even more difficult still. You fancy that, 
if he had really been here, it would have happened other- 
wise — your brother would not have died. And you feel 
as if you had had some right to expect that he should 
have been here — that it should have happened other- 
wise — that your brother should not have died. And 
you can give, perhaps, many reasons. You can point 
out many ends which might have been served had your 
brother been spared — how faithful and successful he 
might have been — how noble a course he might have 
run. He was just prepared for entering into active 
life ; he was just newly fitted for the service of God in 
the world ; and it does seem strange and unaccountable, 
that at the very time when his life seemed to have be- 
come most valuable — when his character was ripening 
for increased usefulness — and when the mere word of 
the great Physician would have brought him back from 
the gates of death, he should yet have been suffered to 
die. 

Ah! but remember that the Lord may have many 
purposes in view with which you may be unacquainted, 
which indeed you could not as yet comprehend. Only 
wait patiently for a little, and you will see that « this 
sickness is not" really " unto death, but for the glory 






Christ at Bethany. 253 

of God, that the Son of God may be glorified thereby" 
(ver. 4). Would that thou hadst been here ! — thou 
surely mightest have been here ! — is the natural lan- 
guage of the mourner to his Lord. Nay, says the Lord 
himself to his own disciples, " I am glad for your sakes 
that I was not there, to the intent ye may believe" (ver. 
15). A hard saying this, — who can always hear it ? 
But consider who it is that speaks. It is your friend, 
your Saviour. He might have been here, and might 
have taken care that your brother should not die ; and 
may you not be sure that, if it had been for his glory, 
and for your good, he would have been here, and would 
have taken care that your brother should not die ? He 
might have ordered this matter otherwise, you say ; and 
you almost think that he ought to have ordered it other- 
wise. But may you not believe that, had it been right 
and good, he would have done so ; and that, if he has 
not, it must be for the best of reasons ? What these 
may be you cannot tell. He may have need of your 
brother's services elsewhere. He may intend to make 
his death the occasion of showing forth his glory, and 
blessing your soul. Only be patient, and hope unto 
tli-- end. What he doeth you may not know now, but 
you shall know hereafter. Meantime, as you are tempted 
to fancy that he might have interfered — nay, that he 
should have interfered — to prevent the calamity under 
which yon Buffer, may nol thai very feeling, on second 
thoughts, Buggesl the conviction, thai if he has not so 
interfered, it musl be because he intends to make to 



254 Leaning on the Beloved. 

you some gracious discovery of himself, and to confer 
upon you some special benefit ? Be not hasty, then, to 
judge, but rest in the assurance that all things shall 
work together for good to them that love God. And 
though he may seem to stand aloof when you would 
most desire, and most need, his interposition ; yet when 
he does come, be sure that you receive him gladly — as 
did the sorrowing sisters. 

Happy will it be for you who mourn, if in like circum- 
stances you are enabled to feel as these sisters felt, and 
to meet your Saviour's gracious advances as they did. 
In the hour of blighted prospects and disappointed hopes, 
when the evil which you deprecated has befallen you, 
you may think that consolation comes too late. Like 
Rachel, you may weep, and refuse to be comforted ; like 
Jonah, when your gourd withers, you may almost be 
tempted to say that you do well to be angry. You may 
turn away when your Saviour draws near ; you may sit 
disconsolate when he calls. If he had come for the pur- 
pose of averting the calamity ; — if he had been here 
sooner, and had interposed his power to help ; — it had 
been well, for then my brother had not died. But the 
calamity has overtaken me — my brother is dead ; and 
what avails it that He is here now ? 

Beware of all such impatience, such natural irrita- 
bility of grief. Reject not the Saviour's visit of sym- 
pathy now, because he did not come to you exactly as 
you in your ignorance would have had him to come, and 
do for you exactly what you would have had him to do. 



Christ at Bethany. 255 

It is enough that He is with you now, to speak com- 
fortably to you — to bind up your broken heart — to fill 
the aching void in your affections, and be to you instead 
of all that you have lost. True, if he had been here 
before, your brother might not have died, and your bro- 
ther, alas ! is dead. But He is here now ; — he who is 
better than a thousand brothers — He who hath the 
words of eternal life ; who can speak a word in sea- 
son to the weary soul, and, when flesh and heart faint, 
Avill be the strength of your heart and your portion for 
ever. 

Such might be the feelings common to the two sisters 
— such are the feelings of nature mingled with grace, 
common to all sanctified grief — as indicated in the affect- 
ing address, " Lord, if thou hadst been here, my brother 
had not died." 

Thus far, we trace in their conduct the Avorking of a 
common grief. 

But the sisters differed in their sorrow, as they did 
generally in the leading features of their characters, and 
their manner of thinking and acting in the ordinary 
affairs of life. They were persons of very different 
tempers and dispositions ; and this difference is uniformly 
and Btrikingly brought out in their treatment of the 
Lord Jeans. Both looked up to him with, reverence ; 
both regarded him with full confidence and tender affec- 
tion : and both wen- equally earnest and eager in tcsti- 
i"\ i 1 1 lt their esteem and love, lint each in doing so 
followed the benl of her own peculiar turn of mind. 



256 Leaning on the Beloved. 

Martha was distinguished by a busy, if not bustling 
activity in the despatch of affairs. She seems to have 
possessed great quickness, alertness, and energy, to- 
gether with a certain practical ability and good sense, 
qualifying her both for taking a lead herself, and for 
giving an impulse to others ; so that she was well fitted 
for going through with any work to be clone, and always 
awake to the common calls and the common cares of 
the ordinary domestic routine of life. Mary, again, was 
evidently characterized by more depth of thought, more 
devotedness and sensibility of feeling. She was more 
easily engrossed in any affecting scene, or any spiritual 
subject ; more alive at any time to one single profound 
impression, and apt to be abstracted from other concerns. 

And as their Avays of testifying regard to the Lord 
Jesus in prosperity differed, so also did their demeanour 
towards him in adversity, (John xi.) 

Martha was evidently the first to receive information 
of his approach (ver. 20), either because to her, as the 
mistress of the house, the message was brought, or be- 
cause, going about the house in her usual manner, she 
was in the way of hearing intelligence. She went out 
in haste, impatient to meet the Lord, and to render to 
him the offices of courtesy and respect. She is ready 
to be up and doing ; she can turn at once from the con- 
versation in which her friends from Jerusalem have been 
seeking to interest her, and disengage her mind for 
active exertion. Mary again is more absorbed in hei 
grief; her sorrow is of a deeper and more desponding 



Christ at Bethany. 257 

character ; for while " Martha, as soon as she heard 
that Jesus was coming, went and met him, Mary sat 
still in the house" (ver. 20). This more absorbing 
intensity of Mary's grief, " the Jews who were with her 
in the house, and comforted her," seem to have re- 
marked, — when they said of her, as they saw her at 
last rise hastily and go out, « She goeth unto the grave 
to weep there" (ver. 31). They had not said this of 
Martha when she went forth. She might be bent on 
other errands. Mary could go — only to weep. And 
at first her feelings so overpower her as to prevent her 
from going at all. The sudden arrival of her brother's 
friend is a shock too great for her ; it tears the wound 
open afresh, and recalls bitter thoughts. She is plunged 
by the tidings into a fresh burst of sorrow, and can 
only "sit still in the house." 

Thus, in different circumstances, the same natural 
temper may be either an advantage or a snare. Martha 
was never so much occupied in the emotion of one scene 
or subject, as not to be on the alert and ready for the 
call to another. This was a disadvantage to her when 
she was so hurried, that she could not withdraw herself 
from household cures to wait upon the word of life. It 
ie :tn advantage to her now, that she can, with compara- 
tive ease, shake <>(T her depression, and hasten of her 
nun accord t>> meet her Lord. The same profound feel- 
ing, again, which made Mary the mosl attentive listener 
before, make- her the mosl helpless sufferer now; and 
9 In']- almost to nurse her grief, until Jesus, her 



>58 



Leaning on the Beloved. 



best conforter, sends specially and emphatically to rouse 
her. Nor is it an insignificant circumstance, that it is 
the ever-active Martha who carries to her more downcast 
sister the awakening message ; — so ought sisters in 
Christ to minister to one another, and so may the very 
difference of their characters make them mutually the 
more helpful ; — « She went her way, and called Mary 
her sister secretly, saying, The Master is come, and 
calleth for thee" (ver. 28). 

"When the two sisters meet Jesus, the difference be- 
tween them is equally characteristic. 

Martha's grief is not so overwhelming as to prevent 
her utterance. She is calm, and cool, and collected 
enough to enter into argument. She can give expres- 
sion to her convictions and her hopes. She can tell that 
her faith is not shaken even by so severe a disappoint- 
ment. Having hinted what might seem to imply a 
doubt (ver. 21), she is in haste to explain her meaning, 
and to give assurance of her undiminished confidence ; 
— " But I know, that even now, whatsoever thou wilt 
ask of God, God will give it thee" (ver. 22). And then, 
as the conversation goes on, she is sufficiently self-pos- 
sessed to listen to a discourse on the resurrection, and 
reason with the Lord upon the subject ; — as well as to 
make a formal declaration of her faith in him as the 
author of eternal life — "the Christ, the Son of God, 
which should come into the world" (ver. 23-27). 

Not so her sister Mary. She indeed, when at last 
she is emboldened by her Master's kind message, goes 






Christ at Bethany. 259 

forth to meet him, and her reverence, her devotion, her 
faith, are not less than those of Martha. But her heart 
is too full for many words. Her emotions, when she 
sees the Lord, she cannot utter. The passion of her 
soul she cannot command. She can but cast herself 
down, weeping, before him, and say, "Lord, if thou 
hadst been here, my brother had not died." She adds 
not a word more. She lies prostrate and silent at his 
feet (ver. 32). 

Such are the different aspects which sorrow wears in 
minds of different stamps, and of different degrees of 
strength and of sensibility. But if it be the sorrow of 
a godly heart, it finds in Jesus one who can with the 
most perfect tenderness and truth adapt his sympathy 
and consolation to its peculiar character, whatever that 
may be. For it is most interesting and instructive to 
observe how the Lord's demeanour towards the two 
sisters, in his first meeting with them on this occasion, 
was exactly suited to their respective tempers, and their 
different kinds of grief. 

Martha's distress was of such a nature, that it admitted 
of discussion and discourse. She was disposed to con- 
verse, and to find relief in conversation. Jesus accord- 
ingly adapted bis treatment to her case. He spoke to 
her, and led her t<> speak to him. lie talked with her 
on tin- subject most interesting and most seasonable — 
on tin- resurrection of the body and the life <»(' the soul. 
Martha bad declared her unshaken trust in him as still 
haying |M>\scr t«> obtain from Qrod all that be might ask 



260 Leaning on the Beloved. 

(ver. 22). And a wild idea, perhaps, crossed her mind, 
that it might not even yet be too late — that the evil 
might, even now, be repaired. If so, it was but the 
fancy of a moment — the dreamy notion that sometimes 
haunts the desolate breast, when it strives in vain to 
realize the loss which it has sustained. A single sad 
thought brings the recollection, to which afterwards, as 
we have seen, in her characteristic spirit of attention 
to such details, she adverts, that her brother has been 
iioav four days in the tomb, and corruption must be doing 
its horrid work upon his body. "When, therefore, she 
hears her Lord's promise, " Thy brother shall rise 
again," she applies it to his share in the general resur- 
rection : " I know that he shall rise again in the resur- 
rection at the last day" (ver. 23, 24). Jesus is anxious 
to explain himself more fully. He speaks not of a re- 
surrection merely, but of a resurrection in Himself; — 
not of life only, but of life in Himself. "I am the re- 
surrection, and the life : he that believeth in me, though 
he were dead, yet shall he live : and whosoever liveth 
and believeth in me shall never die. Believest thou 
this ?" (ver. 25, 26.) 

For in fact this is the only true comfort in reference 
to the future state. He is the only true comforter who 
can speak, not merely of the immortality of the soul, 
and of the resurrection of the body, but of Himself as 
the life of the immortal soul and the cpiickener of the 
risen body ; — the first-begotten from the dead — the first- 
fruits of them that sleep. Ah, what consolation is it 



Christ at Bethany. 261 

that thy brother lives and shall rise again — that he lives 
now in the spirit, and that he shall rise again in the 
body ! The consolation I give is more effectual and 
complete by far. He lives in me. He shall rise with 
:.ie. And what is the life which I continue, even after 
death, to sustain ? It is the very life which I impart 
now — life before God ; life in God ; the life of a soul 
pardoned, justified, reconciled to God, renewed after 
the image of God, sanctified and made meet for the 
fellowhip of God for ever. And what is the resurrec- 
tion which I give ? Is it not a resurrection to glory — 
when these vile bodies shall be changed and fashioned 
like unto my glorious body ? It is my own life that I 
impart to the believer now, and continue to him without 
interruption beyond the grave : it is of my own resur- 
rection that I am to make him a partaker when I come 
again. 

These, or such as these, are the only words which, 
spoken by one who has authority, can shed light on the 
dark tomb of a lost and buried brother, — or on the 
linker sorrow of a surviving sister's heart. So the 
apostle felt when he said, "I would not have you to be 
ignorant, brethren, concerning them which arc asleep, 
that ye Borrow not, even as others which have no hope. 
Fur if we believe tli.it Jesus died and rose again, even 
bo them also which sleep in Jesus will G-od bring with 
him" (1 Thess. iv. L3, 14). 

When Mary, on the other hand, draws near in the 
anguish of Bilenl woe, Jesus is differently affected, and 



262 Leaning on tiie Beloved. 

his sympathy is shown in a different way. He is much 
more profoundly moved. He docs not reply to her in 
words, for her own words were few. Sorrow has choked 
her utterance, and overmastered her soul. But the 
sight of one so dear to him, lying in such helpless grief 
at his feet, is an appeal to him far stronger than any 
supplication. And his own responsive sigh is an answer 
more comforting than any promise. " When Jesus 
therefore saw her weeping, and the Jews also weeping 
which came with her," for it was a melting scene, "he 
groaned in spirit, and was troubled." And when he 
had asked of the bystanders, " Where have ye laid 
him ?" and received the reply, " Come and see" — like 
Joseph, he could not refrain himself — "Jesus wept" 
(ver. 33-35). 

most blessed mourner, with whose tears thy Saviour 
mingles his own ! sympathy most unparalleled ! To 
each of the two stricken and afflicted ones the Lord ad- 
dressed the very consolation that was most congenial. 
To Martha he gave exceeding great and precious as- 
surances, in words such as never man spake. To Mary 
he communicated the groanings of his spirit, in language 
more expressive to the heart than any spoken words 
could be. With Martha, Jesus discoursed and reasoned. 
With Mary, Jesus wept. 

What a friend is this ! What a brother ! yea, and 
far more than a brother ! And how confidently may 
you come to him, ye Christian mourners, in every sea- 
son of trial ! For, surely, he will give you the very 



Christ at Bethany. 



263 



cordial, the very refreshment, of -which you stand in 
need. He is a patient hearer if you have anything to 
say to him ; and he will speak to you as you are able to 
bear it. Your complaints, your regrets, your expostu- 
lations, your very remonstrances and upbraidings, may 
all be expressed to him. He will pity. He will comfort. 
His Holy Spirit will bring to your remembrance what 
Christ has said suitable to your case. He will recall 
to you tht; Saviour's gracious words of eternal life, and 
suggest to you considerations fitted to dissipate your 
gloom, and put a new song in your mouth. And even 
if you cannot collect your thoughts, and order your 
words aright — if you are dumb with silence when your 
sorrow is stirred, and as you muse your heart is hot 
within you — oh remember, that with these very groan- 
ings which cannot be uttered, the Spirit niaketh inter- 
cession for you ! And they are not hid from him who, 
when he saw Mary weeping, groaned, and was troubled, 
and wept. There is indeed enough of all varied conso- 
lation in that blessed book, which all throughout testifies 
of Jesus ! For the sorrow that seeks vent in words, 
and desires by words also to be soothed, — there is the 
Saviours open car — there are the Saviour's lips into 
which grace was poured. For the grief that is dumb 

and silent, — there arc the Saviour's tears. 

Canumsu. 



264 Leaning on the Beloved. 

Scriptural Selections. 

(Now Bethany was nigh unto Jerusalem, about fifteen furlongs off.) 

And many of the Jews came to Martha and Mary, to comfort them 
concerning their brother. 

Then Martha, as soon as she heard that Jesus was coming, went 
and met him : but Mary sat still in the house. 

Then said Martha unto Jesus, Lord, if thou hadst been here, my 
brother had not died. 

But I know, that even now, whatsoever thou wilt ask of God, God 
will give it thee. 

Jesus saith unto her, Thy brother shall rise again. 

Martha saith unto him, I know that he shall rise again in the re- 
surrection at the last day. 

Jesus said unto her, I am the resurrection, and the life : he that 
believeth in me, though he were dead, yet shall he live : 

And whosoever liveth, and believeth in me, shall never die. Be- 
lievest thou this ? 

She saith unto him, Yea, Lord : I believe that thou art the Christ, 
the Son of God, which should come into the world. 

And when she had so said, she went her way, and called Mary her 
sister secretly, saying, The Master is come, and calleth for thee. — 
John, xi. 18-28. 

Then when Mary was come where Jesus was, and saw him, she fell 
down at his feet, saying unto him, Lord, if thou hadst been here, my 
brother had not died. 

When Jesus therefore saw her weeping, and the Jews also weeping 
which came with her, he groaned in the spirit, and was troubled, 

And said, Where have ye laid him? They say unto him, Lord, 
come and see. 

Jesus wept. 

Then said the Jews, Behold how he loved him ! — John, xi. 82-3G. 



Christ at Bethany. 265 



Christ's Words to the Sorrowing. 

Broken-hearted, -weep no more ! 

Hear what comfort He hath spoken : 
Smoking flax who ne'er hath quenched, 
Bruised reed who ne'er hath broken. 
"Ye who wander here below, 
Heavy laden as you go, 
Come with grief, with sin oppressed, 
Come to me and be at rest !" 

Lamb of Jesus' blood-bought flock, 

Brought again from sin and straying, 
Hear the Shepherd's gentle voice — 
'Tis a true and faithful saying — 
" Greater love how can there be, 
Than to yield up life for thee ? 
Bought with pang, and tear, and sigh, 
Turn and live ! — Why will ye die?" 

Broken-hearted, weep no more, 
Far from consolation flying : 
He who calls hath felt thy wound, 

Seen thy weeping, heard thy sighing; — 
•• Bring thy broken heart to me, 
Welcome offering it shall be ; 
Streaming tears and bursting *ighs 
.Mine accepted sacrifice." 



III. 
The Compassionate High Priest. 

■■>-,, ing then that at have a great n ; : ,:< Pi V -■ that ie patted into (he heavt iw.Ji sua (»« Son of fiW, 

lettMftoM m-' • profettion. Foraeha\ (a ftioftj>ri( ( wfticft connoi 6i (oucfted trifft fhefeeU 

., fcylnnift-es,- hrf was in all points eemjrted Kfo M w« o«, v I BiO ' stn. Eel us (ftere- 

! /;., unto thi ttrone 0/ ora • tint we may obtain mercy, and find grace (o help m time 

o/needV'-HF.B. iv. H-1G. 



I 



N the Jewish economy the High Priest occupied solemn 
- and peculiar relations. A descendant of Aaron- 
anointed with the holy oil— clad in garments made for 
glory and for beauty— unblemished in person, sacred in 
office, and standing once each year before the mercy- 
seat in the Holy of Holies as the mediator between God 
and his people Israel— he became invested with a sacred- 
ness and a majesty of character becoming to him who 
stood among men as the representative of God. 

To this pontifical office the Jews had become much 
attached, and the design of St. Paul in the Epistle to 
the Hebrews was to transfer their love of this office as a 
Mosaic institution, to Christ, a High Priest greater than 
Aaron, in the new and Christian dispensation. This 
he does by showing how Christ was in all points equal 
to the Jewish pontiff, and in many far exceeded him ; 
thus establishing claims to their regard and obedience 
beyond those which pertained to the Aaronic priesthood. 

This position we shall better understand by showing 

1 (2GG) 



The Compassionate High Priest. 267 

wherein they were analogous, and wherein the priestly 
office of Christ exceeded that of Aaron or his sons. 

The Aaronic high priest must be called of God. 
"No man," says St. Paul, "taketh this honour unto 
himself, but he that is called of God as was Aaron. 
So also Christ glorified not himself to be made an High 
Priest," but God said unto him, " Thou art my Son, this 
day have I begotten thee." 

The Aaronic high priesthood was unchangeable. It 
could never depart from the family of Aaron. So Christ 
being made an High Priest, changeth not, " but abideth 
a priest continually." He "hath an unchangeable 
priesthood." 

The Aaronic high priest was to be anointed with the 
holy oil. The very name of our Saviour (Christ, or 
Messiah,) showed that he was anointed by God to exe- 
cute his mediatorial office ; set apart to the office, not 
with the anointing oil employed in the solemn consecra- 
tion of Aaron and his sons, but with the antitype of 
that oil, "the spirit of grace" poured upon him without 
measure by the hand of God. 

The high priesl must be without blemish, and holy. 
I [e must be Bound and healthy in body and mind. Aaron 
and his sons were also originally sanctified externally by 
a long Beriefi of most solemn offerings and ceremonies; 
their garments were styled holy, and "Holiness to the 

hoid" vraa engraven on a plate, which thej were direoted 
to wear upon their mitres. "Such an High Priest,"' 
Bayeth St. Paul, "ia Christ, who is holy, harmless, un- 



268 Leaning on the Beloved. 

defiled, separate from sinners," of whom even his 
enemies declared they found "no fault in him." His 
very garments were holy, for the sick and infirm hut 
touched the hem of them and they were made whole. 

The Aaronic high priest only could enter into the 
Holy of Holies once each year, and then only with blood. 
So Christ entered into the "most holy place" above 
with the blood wrung from him in Gethsemane and on 
Calvary. The Aaronic high priest only could make a 
ceremonial atonement for the sins of the people ; and 
Christ, as the High Priest of our salvation, " by a sacri- 
fice and oblation of himself once offered, made a full, 
perfect, and sufficient" atonement for the sins of the 
world. These are some of the more prominent analo- 
gies between the priesthood of Christ and the priest- 
hood of Aaron ; and, were we to pursue the comparison 
further, we should find that the symbolical and temporary 
ministrations of the one had their end and perfection 
in the spiritual and unchangeable priesthood of the 
other. 

But there are qualities and attributes far above 
these, which show the superiority of Christ's pontificate. 
The high priest of the Jews was a sinful being. The 
High Priest of the gospel was holy. The one, had to 
make atonement for himself as a sinner; the other, 
"knew no sin, neither was guile found in his mouth." 
The high priest of the Jews was a man — weak, frail, 
mortal man— born of dust to be buried in the dust- 
having the pains and sufferings of life about him. But 



The Compassionate High Priest. 269 

the High Priest Jesus, " is the same yesterday, to-day, 
and for ever." 

The high priest of the Jews was on earth, and only 
entered into the Holy of Holies once a year to make 
an annual expiation for the sins of the nation on the 
great day of atonement. But our High Priest is in 
heaven, the true Holy of Holies, and there " he ever 
liveth to make intercession for us ;" so that not once a 
year merely, but at all times ; not at Jerusalem only, 
but in all places, we can have " boldness of access to his 
mercy-seat." 

The Christian dispensation, then, outvies the Leviti- 
cal in the glory and exaltedness of its great High Priest 
that is passed into the heavens, Jesus the Son of God ; 
and hence the Apostle subjoins the exhortation to the 
Hebrews, "let us hold fast our profession," for they 
were particularly inclined to apostatize from Christi- 
anity, and go back to Judaism, being tempted by their 
unconverted brethren to regard the Mosaic religion and 
the whole Jewish ritual as far more elevated, splendid, 
and magnificent than the Christian, in comparison with 
whose temple, service, and gorgeous ceremonials, the 
origin and rites of the religion of Jesus appeared mean 
and insignificant. By therefore showing these Hebrew 
Christiana that we had a High Priest not only equal in 
office and dignity, bu1 Bar more exalted than the pontiff 
of the temple, he urged them to hold last their profes- 
sion, doI to relinquish their grasp on Christianity, bc- 
canse there was do Bach external ritual in the primitive 



270 Leaning on the Beloved. 

church — no such altars, sacrifices, offerings, priests, as 
in the Jewish — for all these 'were more than met and 
answered by the plenitude of grace in the new dispen- 
sation ; and, in view of their peculiarly exposed position 
to the assaults of the tempter, he brings the touching 
argument, « for we have not an High Priest, which can- 
not be touched with the feeling of our infirmities ; but 
was in all points tempted like as Ave are, yet without sin." 
Ah, my brethren, this was just such a Priest as man 
wanted — a Priest that could feel for him ; a High Priest 
that was compassionate ; a great High Priest who could 
be touched with the feeling of our infirmities — one in all 
points tempted as we are, yet without sin. There was 
nothing like this in the old dispensation. It was re- 
served for the gospel to introduce to man a High Priest, 
who, while exalted in the heavens, could yet be touched 
with the feeling of our infirmities — who was tempted 
with all the temptations of humanity, yet did not sin, 
neither was guile found in his mouth. 

Christ, then, our great High Priest, is touched with 
the feeling of our infirmities ; and 0, to creatures so 
full of infirmities as ourselves, how delightful to have 
a spiritual ruler who understands them, and is touched 
with them with an abiding sympathy. 

Sin has shorn us of our glory, and strewn the earth 
with curses, and planted the path of man with infirmi- 
ties and sorrows. We are prone to suffering — we are 
subject to disease — we are victims of adversity, and we 
stagger under the weight of our mental and physical 



The Compassionate High Priest. 271 

infirmities, from the tiny footsteps of childhood to the 
feeble tread of threescore and ten. Under these in- 
firmities we groan being burdened ; we feel the work- 
ings of the curse of sin every day of our life, and the 
loss of limb and function and strength and health which 
is everywhere going on around us, show us the sadness 
and misery of man's earthly condition. These infirmi- 
ties, through the influence of the body on the mind and 
soul, often lead us into sin and temptation, become ave- 
nues of assault upon the heart, and the means whereby 
faith is weakened, and love chilled, and hope repressed, 
and the soul bereft of its holy aspirations. In sickness, 
how much are we tempted to impatience and repining ; 
in bereavements, how apt to murmur and complain ; in 
adversity, how often do we show the restive and un- 
tamed spirit of a worldling ! No infirmity of mind or 
body can overtake us, without begetting some unholy 
feelings towards our Creator. Now Jesus, our blessed 
Master, suffered the ills of life when on earth ; hunger, 
thirst, cold, poverty, reproach, buffetings, and all the 
infirmities of man. His compassionate heart is there- 
fore touched by our sorrows, and deeply sympathizes 
with :ill our distresses. Frequently was this exhibited 
when "ii earth, llu was moved with compassion when 
be saw the multitude scattered abroad as sheep having 
qo shepherd — he had compassion on the multitude with- 
out bread — at seeing in (he throng sick persons, win. in 

he bealed — at the ughl of blind men, whom he restored 

lit — at a leper, whom he cured — at a child pos- 



272 Leaning on the Beloved. 

sessed of a dumb spirit, -which he cast out — at behold- 
ing a mother's grief, whose son he restored to life, 
yea, his mission to man was prompted by mercy, and 
his life on earth was full of compassion. 

We know how delightful it is when suffering under 
any sickness or calamity, to have the sympathy and 
pity of those Ave love ; to feel that in their bosoms are 
kindred emotions of tenderness and regard, causing 
them to weep with those who weep. But how much 
more cheering is it to the Christian, bowed beneath 
some burdensome sorrow, to know r that he has the 
compassion and sympathy of his Saviour ! That Jesus, 
the Son of God, our ever-living High Priest in heaven, 
is touched with the feeling of his infirmities ! That 
humanity can know no want, no affliction, no suffering, 
which he does not feel, and towards which his com- 
passions do not flow out ! And this is not a mere in- 
operative compassion, expending itself in words and 
professions, but it is a sympathy joined to a willingness 
to do, and an ability to do, for our relief. For having 
been himself tempted, he is able and willing to succour 
those who are tempted. Many persons have borne the 
same afflictions which befall us, who are not willing to 
sympathize with us ; many are willing to sympathize 
with us, who have not experienced like tribulations ; and 
many are both able and willing to extend to us their 
compassion, who are yet unable to do anything for our 
comfort or relief. But our compassionate High Priest 
unites all these. He has been a man of sorrows, and 



The Compassionate High Priest. 273 

acquainted with griefs, and can therefore sympathize 
experimentally with us. He is -willing and prompted 
by the benevolence of his heart to tender to us his kind 
compassion ; and, as God in the plenitude of omnipo- 
tence, " he is able to save to the uttermost all who come 
unto God through Him," and to "wipe away all tears 
from their eyes." The sympathy of Christ to his disci- 
ples on earth is a tender sympathy ; for " as a father 
pitieth his children, even so pitieth them that hear 
him." It is an extensive sympathy ; there is not an in- 
firmity of man which it cannot reach ; it is a proportiona- 
ble sympathy, answerable to our peculiar wants, and to 
every occasion ; it is a perpetual sympathy, so long as 
he continues a High Priest, and we remain subject to 
infirmities, so long will our blessed Jesus be touched 
with the feeling of them. 

Man has no such sympathy as this for his fellow-man. 
Angels who never wore our nature can have none like 
it, it is only the man Christ Jesus, both God and man, 
who centres in himself this plenitude of mercy and this 
disinterested compassion. 

The reason why our great High Priest is so sensibly 
affected by our suffering condition, is stated by the 
Apostle to lie in the fact that " He was in all points 
tempted like as we arc, yet without sin." The Greek 
word here used is more general in its meaning than the 
English word "tempted." It adverts both to trial 
by affliction, and temptations to Bin ; implying qo more, 
however, than thai of being Busceptible to temptation, 
35 



274 Leaning on the Beloved. 

resulting from the possession of a human nature. It 
means then to put to the proof, to try the nature or 
character ; and this proof can be made either by allow- 
ing one to fall into temptation, properly so called, where 
some strong inducement is presented to the mind, and 
where it becomes thus a trial of virtue, or by subjecting 
a person to afflictions or sufferings, so that his character 
is proved, that the principles and motives of conduct 
may appear. Jesus Christ was subjected to both these 
in as severe a form as ever was presented to man ; his 
whole life being little else than a long conflict of faith 
with sense — holiness with sin — virtue with temptation — 
yet, blessed be God, the tempter was repelled, the sin 
was overcome, the flesh was nailed to the cross, for he 
rose from each assault a conqueror— vanquishing every 
foe, triumphing in every contest, He alone, then, who 
has conquered sin, and overthrown the tempter, can 
succour us in the temptations of the one, or the assaults 
of the other, and enable us to be victor over both. 

When thrust at by the enemy of our souls— when 
attacked by his fiery trials— when seduced by his gilded 
lures, when teased by the insinuations and cheating whis- 
pers of this « father of lies," it is cheering and animating 
to the half-subdued soul to know, that Jesus was tempted 
in all points like as we are ; and that, having been 
tempted, he knows what humanity can endure, and will 
"not suffer us to be tempted above that we are able to 
bear." In Christ we are invincible— though sin, death, 
and hell wage war upon the soul : out of Christ we are 



The Compassionate High Priest. 275 

the victims of the first temptation, and fall an easy 
prey to the spoiler of our souls. 

Such being the nature of our compassionate High 
Priest, the Apostle argues thence our duty, and urges 
upon us our peculiar privileges. 

Is he thus tender towards our infirmities, and does 
he thus succour us in our temptations ? then should 
Ave hold fast our profession. Why should we relax our 
hold, when He whom we serve is able and willing to sus- 
tain us ? We serve not an impotent Prince or a weak 
Sovereign. He under whom we have enlisted is om- 
nipotent. The banner under which we are marshalled 
is one that never yet was lowered to human foe ; and 
the weapons by which we Avar are "mighty through God, 
to the pulling down of the strongholds of sin and Satan." 
Why, then, should Ave relax our hold, when " the Lord 
of hosts is with us, and the God of Jacob is our refuge ?" 
Why should avc apostatize and go back to the world ? 
The question there meets us, "What shall it profit a 
man to gain the Avhole world and lose his OAvn soul?" 

What can the world give in barter for your faith ? 
What Avill it palm off upon you in lieu of your hopes ? 
Whal will it Bell you for the joys of the Spirit? 0, go 
to its shambles, and its money-changers, and sec what 
trade you can make for the religion of Christ ; and when 
you have learnt the price, decide whether yon Avill hold 
our profession. Shall you give up the contest be- 
cause ii waxes warm? Shall you retreat because of the 
danger? Does the toil overcome you, and do you faint 



276 Leaning on the Beloved. 

and grow weary because of the burden and heat of the 
• day ? Had your Saviour been influenced by such mo- 
tives, what would have become of your soul — when 
would have been wrought out your salvation ? 

Have we such a compassionate High Priest ? then 
should we confide in him. He knows our infirmities — 
he is cognisant of our wants — he is touched with our 
sorrows — he feels for us in our bereavements, and sym- 
pathizes in all our adversities. Divine wisdom could 
not have provided for the soul a more full and perfect 
counterpart in kind, though in degree infinitely removed 
above us. It is just such a High Priest as man needs ; 
and there is no necessity of his moral nature that he 
does not meet and satisfy. And then, too, he is willing 
to aid and succour us — more willing than we to ask. 
And should we not, therefore, confide in his mercy and 
tenderness ? Look upon his face — do you see there a 
forbidding aspect ? Are any frowns gathered there ? is 
repulse expressed there ? or does it not rather beam 
with a love as infinite as his own perfection, and glow 
with a smile of compassion, which is the sunlight of the 
soul ? 

If you cannot confide in Christ, in whom can you? 
If you fear to go to him with your cares and your sor- 
rows, to whom will you resort ? He suffered for you ; 
he sorrowed for you ; he bled for you ; he died for you. 
Shall not his sorrows, his tears, his stripes, his blood, 
his death, all experienced for you, beget your confidence ? 
You confide in an earthly friend, — but could all the men 



The Compassionate High Priest. 277 

of earth combined work out for your soul the ransom 
which Jesus made for it on Calvary ? Oh, is it not, I 
ask, black ingratitude not to trust him ? Is it not an 
insult to his love to withhold your confidence ? Reason 
it out upon the principles which regulate human friend- 
ship, and see in what position it places you to your 
adorable Redeemer. Yes, confide in Him in all times, 
in all places, in all circumstances. Are you poor ? — he 
had not where to lay his head. Are you in distress ? — 
he too was afflicted with grief. Are you the object of 
reproach and scorn? — he was despised and rejected of 
men. Are you persecuted ? — he was reviled, and buf- 
feted, and scourged. Do you weep in silence ? — he shed 
tears as it were great drops of blood falling down to the 
ground. Are you mourning under bereavement ? — he 
wept at the grave of Lazarus. Do the pains of death 
take hold ? — they were endured by Christ in their high- 
est extremity. You cannot in your most exalted woe 
exceed his anguish — in your keenest afflictions excel 
his grief ; and the valley of the shadow of death cannot 
appear darker and more terrible to you than it did to 
the Crucified, when he cried, " my Father, if it be 
possible, let this cup pass from me." All these points 
arc so many guarantees that your confidence is not 
misplaced — so many invitations to place your hope and 
trust in his loving kindness. Confide fully in Christ ; 
be not distrustful of his compassion, for " He is faithful 
that promised." 

"Let us therefore come boldly unto the throne of 



278 Leaning on the Beloved. 

grace." The mercy-seat of the Jewish temple was in- 
approachable to the multitude. Only the High Priest 
could go in before it once each year, and then with 
blood and incense ; but the throne of grace erected in 
the heavens is accessible to all. It is a throne, because 
occupied by a King, and is the seat of the Majesty on 
high ; but it is named Grace, because of the clemency 
and compassion of Him who sits upon it. Approach 
this throne, and we are sure of an audience. The golden 
sceptre of mercy is ever held out to us, and we are sure 
of grace to help in every time of need. Boldly go to 
that throne, and prefer your request in faith upon the 
merits of Christ, and in confidence upon the mercy of 
that great High Priest who is passed unto the heavens, 
Jesus the Son of God, remembering that he is touched 
with the feeling of our infirmities, that he succours us 
in our temptations, and vouchsafes to all who call upon 

him "grace to help in every time of need." 

Stevens. 



The Compassionate High Priest. 



Scriptural Selections. 

Fob. every high priest, taken from among men, is oi'dained for men 
in things pertaining to God, that he may offer both gifts and sacri- 
fices for sins : 

Yt T ho can have compassion on the ignorant, and on them that are 
out of the way : for that he himself also is compassed with infirmity. 

And by reason hereof he ought, as for the people, so also for him- 
self, to offer for sins. 

And no man taketh this honour unto himself, but he that is called 
of God, as was Aaron. 

So also Christ glorified not himself to be made a high priest ; but 
he that said unto him, Thou art my Son, to-day have I begotten thee. 
Heb. v. 1-5. 

But Christ being come a high priest of good things to come, by a 
greater and more perfect tabernacle, not made with hands, that is to 
say, not of this building ; 

Neither by the blood of goats and calves, but by his own blood, he 
entered in once into the holy place, having obtained eternal redemp- 
tion for us. 

For if the blood of bulls and of goats, and the ashes of a heifer 
Bprinkling the unclean, sanctificth to the purifying of the flesh ; 

How much more shall the blood of Christ, who through the eternal 
Spirit offered himself without spot to God, purge your conscience from 
lc:i«l works to Berve the living God? 

Ami for this oau ->• be ie the mediator of the new testament, thai by 
means of death, for the redemption of the transgressions thai were 
under the first testament, they which are called might receive the 
• ■f eternal inheritance. — Heb. i.\. 11-15. 



280 Leaning on the Beloved. 



Clinging to Jesus. 

tout n ijn'iit hiijh ;'W<>7 that is panr't into til' hiiirrns, Jtsus, the Son Of God, let 
us hold fast our prof ession.'' —U.EB. ir. 14. 

Holy Saviour, friend unseen, 
Since on thine arm thou bid'st me lean, 
Help me throughout life's varying scene, 
By faith to cling to thee ! 

Blest with this fellowship divine, 
Take what thou wilt, I'll ne'er repine ; 
E'en as the branches to the vine, 

My soul would cling to thee ! 

Far from her home, fatigued, oppressed, 
Here she has found her place of rest ; 
An exile still, yet not unblest, 

While she can cling to thee ! 

Oft, when I seem to tread alone 

Some barren waste with thorns o'ergrown, 

Thy voice of love, in tenderest tone, 

Whispers, "Still cling to me!" 

Though faith and hope may oft be tried, 
I ask not, need not, aught beside ; 
How safe, how calm, how satisfied, 

The soul that clings to thee ! 

Blest is my lot, whate'er befall: 
What can disturb me, what appal, 
Whilst as my rock, my strength, my all, 
Saviour ! I cling to thee ? 



Christ the Keyholder of the Eternal 
World. 



'il he that livetJl, and was dead ; and, behold, I . 
and have the keys of hell and of death."— Rex. 



EVERY clause of this sublime declaration, coming. as 
it does from our glorified Redeemer, is pregnant 
with assurance and consolation to his believing people, 
and is specially fitted to banish those fearful and anxious 
forebodings which oppress their minds in the prospect 
of dissolution. 

" I am he that liveth," or rather, "I am the LIVING 
0> T E," the first and the last, without beginning of days 
or end of years, self-existent, and, therefore, independ- 
ent of every outward condition, and incapable of change. 
lie asserts his supreme divinity as a reason why his 
disciples should "not fear;" and, surely, to every 
Christian mind, the fact, that the Son of Man, in whom 
they have trusted as their Saviour, is "the Living One," 
may well furnish a ground of unshaken confidence, since 
irea us, that, happen what may, our trust is re- 
posed "it one, whose existence, and whose power to 
affeel our welfare, cannot be destroyed by any event 
whatever, and that our interests fur eternity are abso- 
lutely Bafe, being placed in hia hands. 

30 . (281) 



282 Leaning on the Beloved. 

But how much greater ought to be our confidence in 
him, and how much sweeter the consolation which his 
words impart, when he adds, "I WAS DEAD." He ap- 
pears to the Apostle not simply as « the Living One," 
the self-existent Son of God, but as God manifested in 
the flesh, the Son of God in human nature, and even in 
his glorified state, "like unto the Son of Man," whom 
the beloved disciple had ofttimes seen and followed as 
the "man of sorrows, and acquainted with grief." Let 
us attempt to conceive of the feelings with which the 
beloved disciple must have looked on his glorified Mas- 
ter : let us remember that he had companied with him 
on earth, that he had leaned upon his bosom, and that 
he knew the sad history of his crucifixion, and we can- 
not fail to perceive how the mere fact, that the same 
divine Redeemer now stood before him, and spoke with 
him of the decease which he had accomplished at Jeru- 
salem, must have served to annihilate in the mind of 
the Apostle the fear of death, and to open up to his view 
such a glorious prospect into the invisible world, as 
would strip the pathway that led to heaven of its terrors, 
however dark and dismal it might otherwise lie. 

And to every Christian, the words of our Lord, "1 
Avas dead," will suggest reflections that should serve to 
fortify the mind against the fear of dissolution ; or, at 
all events, to rebuke and mitigate the aversion with 
which it is usually contemplated. 

Did the Redeemer die, — a Being who claims to him- 
self the dignity of "the Living One," — a Being not 



Christ the Keyholder. 283 

only of infinite dignity, but of spotless purity, and who, 
from the beginning till the end of his existence on earth, 
was the object of God's supreme complacency and ap- 
probation ? And shall we complain that death is allotted 
as our portion also ? toe, who, as created beings, are 
insignificant, — by inheritance, mortal, — by actual guilt, 
polluted and debased? To us, death comes as wages 
earned by guilt ; but even were it otherwise, — did death 
come to us as an accident of our being, how should we 
complain of the hardness of our lot, when Christ him- 
self declares, "I was dead?" 

Did the Redeemer die, — as the surety and representa- 
tive of sinners ? was his death a solemn expiation of our 
guilt, and an adequate satisfaction to God for the penalty 
which we had incurred ? Is there no reason, then, to 
suppose, that dying, as he did, in the room and on be- 
half of the guilty, death met him in a more formidable 
shape, and put into his hands a bitterer cup than can 
now fall to the lot of any of his people ; and that their 
dissolution will be greatly less terrible than it would 
have been by reason of his enduring in their room the 
heaviest part of it? For what is it that mainly em- 
bitters death, and surrounds it, even when viewed ;it a 
distance, with innumerable terrors? Not surely the 
mere pain with which it is accompanied, — for equal or 
greater pain we have often endured — not the mere dis- 
solution "I' the ii'' betwixl soul and body, — for if that 
were all, however our sensitive nature might sin-ink 
from the Bhock, our rational nature mighl enable us to 



'284 Leaning on the Beloved. 

regard it with composure, — not the mere separation 
from the society and business of the present world, — 
for that, however it may awaken a feeling of melancholy 
regret, can hardly account for the forebodings and 
terrors of which every mind is more or less conscious 
when it contemplates death. No ; it is something more 
than the mere pain of dying, or the mere dissolving of 
the elements of our being, or the mere separation from 
this world, that embitters the cup of death. " The 
sting of death is sin" — the same sin which gave us 
over as a prey to death, makes us also slaves to the 
fear of death ; for, by the unvarying law of conscience, 
sin and fear are bound up together ; and it is a con- 
science burdened with guilt, and apprehensive of pun- 
ishment, which, in our case, arrays death with terrors 
unknown to the inferior and irresponsible creation. 
But Christ died to expiate and cancel the guilt of his 
people ; he has already endured, and by enduring, has 
taken away the penalty of their transgression ; death 
remains, but its sting is taken away ; so that we may 
" thank God, who hath given us the victory through 
Jesus Christ our Lord," and may exclaim with the 
Apostle, " Oh ! death, where is now thy sting, — Oh ! 
grave, where is thy victory ?" 

Did the Redeemer die, — that he might show us an 
example of suffering affliction with patience, and be to 
us a pattern of faith and hope in our last extremity ? 
A.nd is there no consolation in the thought, that when 
we reach the shore of that dark water which divides 



Christ the Keyholder. 285 

time and eternity, we can fix our eye on one who, for 
our sakes, crossed it in triumph before us ; and think 
of the love of our Redeemer, who, in compassion to our 
fears, became » bone of our bone, and flesh of our flesh," 
that, by his own example, he might teach us how to 
die ? Had he returned from earth to heaven in triumph ; 
had he avoided the dark valley himself, and, summoning 
his legions of angels, left the world by a direct ascension 
to glory, then, whatever lessons he might have taught, 
and whatever commands and encouragements he might 
have addressed to his followers, respecting their conduct 
in that last hour of darkness and distress, his instruc- 
tions would have had little effect in comparison with the 
charm of his example, when, placing himself in their 
circumstances, and submitting to their fate, he "bowed 
his head and gave up the ghost ;" and met death, as he 
commands his people to meet it, in the exercise of an 
unshaken confidence in God, and humble submission to 
his will. Where shall we find such another example of 
holy fortitude for our imitation? where such another 
instance of success for our encouragement ? 

Did the Redeemer die, — that he might not only de- 
prive death of its sting, but overcome him that had the 
power <>f death, and take it into his own hands? Let 
us, then, rejoice in his success ; for once Satan had the 
power of death, but Christ hath "carried captivity cap- 
tive," and "Satan hath fallen before him as- lightning 
from heaven." In that hour, which he did himself em- 
phatically call "the hour and the poYver of darkness," 



286 Leaning on the Beloved. 

when ho was in more than mortal agony, travailing in 
the greatness of his strength, he vanquished death and 
hell, and he wrested from the hands of our greatest 
enemy, and took into his own possession, the keys of 
death and of the invisible world. Death still reigns, 
hut Christ has now the dominion over death. 

In token of his victory, the Redeemer adds, "I AM 
alive for evermore." The grave received, hut it 
could not retain him ; and while the fact of his inter- 
ment may well serve to reconcile us to the peaceful 
grave, with all its loneliness and darkness, since it was 
embalmed by the presence of our Lord himself, the fact 
of his resurrection from the grave should enkindle the 
bright hope of a glorious morning, after that dark night 
has passed away. 

For, did the Redeemer arise from the tomb ? Then 
here, at least, is one example of restoration to life after 
the agony of death was past, — one case in which the 
spell of death was broken, and the cerements of the 
tomb burst, and the power of Satan vanquished,— one 
living monument of the immortality of man, — one incon- 
testable proof, that the same body which died, and the 
same spirit which departed, may meet again after that 
fearful separation. Christ hath risen, and in his resur- 
rection we find the ground of an eternal hope. 

Did the Redeemer arise from the grave in the same 
character in which he died,— as the head and repre- 
sentative of his people ? Then is his resurrection not 
only the proof, but the pledge ; not only the evidence, 



Christ the Ketholder. 287 

but the earnest of our own. For if the head be risen, 
shall not the members of his body rise also ? If, as our 
representative, he hath passed into the heavens, shall 
not we, in whose name, and for whose behoof, he under- 
took and accomplished his mediatorial work, follow him 
in our order and time ? Did we die with him, and 
shall we not rise with him ? " If we have been planted 
together in the likeness of his death, we shall be also 
in the likeness of his resurrection." ''If we be dead 
with Christ, we believe that we shall also live with 
him." "Because I live, ye shall live also." 

Did the Redeemer not only rise from the grave, but 
does he live for evermore ? Is he the same yester- 
day, to-day, and for ever ? Not only eternal in his 
being, but unchangeable in his character, as our Re- 
deemer ? "What, then, should cause us to despond, or 
make us afraid? or "what shall separate us from the 
love of Christ ?" Since Christ hath died, yea, also, 
and hath risen again, and is now and for ever at the 
right hand of God, " I am persuaded, that neither death, 
nor life, nor angels, nor principalities, nor powers, nor 
tilings present, nor things to come, nor height, nor 
depth, nor any other creature, shall separate us from 
his love." True, we know not what may yet befall us, 
nor into what untried circumstances, or state of being, 
we may hereafter be broughl ; we are sure that one day 
UBl -lie : * ii*l enter the invisible world ; and we may 
well be concerned for an event which will have an ever- 
lasting issue for good or for evil ; but placing our trust 



288 Leaning on the Beloved. 

in the efficacy of the Redeemer's death, and believing 
in the fact of his resurrection, we may take his own 
word as the rock of our confidence and hope, — " I am 
alive for evermore, Amen;" and "because I live, ye 
shall live also." 

If these views of the death and resurrection of our 
blessed Lord are fitted to banish, or mitigate, the fear 
of dissolution, and to inspire the hope of a glorious im- 
mortality, how much should their impression be aided 
by the sublime statement in the last clause of the pas- 
sage, — « I HAVE THE KEYS OF HELL AND OF DEATH !" 

The power of the keys is an absolute power, — a royal 
prerogative. Christ's authority is not confined to the 
visible Church on earth ; it extends to the invisible 
world, and embraces under its jurisdiction all the disem- 
bodied spirits, of whatsoever character : although they 
have left this world, they are still under the dominion 
of him, of whom it is said, that « at his name every knee 
shall bow, of things in heaven, of things on earth, and 
of things under the earth ; and every tongue confess 
that he is Lord, to the glory of God the Father." 

It is as the Redeemer, that he asserts his claim to the 
keys ; that claim is founded on the fact, that " he over- 
came death and him that had the power of death, in 
order to deliver those who, through fear of death, were 
all their lifetime subject to bondage ;" and it is expressly 
declared by the Apostle, that, " for this end, Christ both 
died and rose again, and revived, that he might be Lord 
both of the dead and of the living." 



Christ the Keyholder. 2S9 

That he is the Lord of the dead, is here asserted — 
"I have the keys of hell." In the original there are 
two terms, each of which is rendered by the word " hell" 
in the English version ; the one, however, literally im- 
ports the invisible world at large, while the other de- 
notes that department of the invisible world which is 
specially appropriated to the punishment of the wicked. 

In the passage before us, the more comprehensive 
term is used ; and here, as elsewhere, it is to be regarded 
as signifying not merely the place of future punishment, 
although that is unquestionably included in it, but, more 
generally, the world of spirits, the entire state of retri- 
bution, whether of reward or punishment. We learn 
from Scripture, that the whole of that vast world is di- 
vided into two departments, and only two — heaven and 
hell ; and that betwixt the two, a great gulf is fixed, — 
an impassable gulf of separation : but separated as they 
are, Christ reigns over both; and when he says, "I 
have the keys of the invisible world," he asserts hia 
dominion over all the spirits that have ever passed from 
this world, either into heaven or hell ; and his absolute 
control over them in their final destination of happiness 
or woe. 

When it is affirmed, that ho has also " the key of 
death," it is plainly implied that no spirit can pa 
of this present world without hi- permission or appoint- 
ment : ami, more generally, thai lie is lord of the living 
not less than of the dead,* and has a thorough control 

I'mumi'iii over the Invi.-ilile World. 

87 



290 Leaning ox the Beloved. 

over everything that can in any way affect the lives of 
men. An absolute power over death necessarily pre- 
supposes a corresponding power over life and its affairs ; 
and it is by the exercise of his providence in sustaining 
life, that he fulfils his purpose as to the time and mode 
of their departure hence. 

So that, combining these several views, we arrive at 
this grand and comprehensive result, that the Redeemer 
is possessed of absolute power over the course of our 
lives on earth, over the time and manner of our departure 
out of the world, and over that invisible state, in each 
of its great departments, on which our spirits enter when 
they quit their mortal tabernacles ; and this noble testi- 
mony to the universal power and everlasting presence 
of Christ with his disciples, is fitted to suggest several 
reflections, which may be useful in dissipating their 
anxieties, and in fortifying their courage, when they 
contemplate either the future course of their pilgrimage 
here, or the solemn prospect of its termination, or the 
still more solemn, because untried and eternal, state on 
which they shall enter hereafter. 

Has the Redeemer the keys of death? Then this 
consideration ought to relieve our minds both of the 
anxieties and the regrets which we are too apt to feel, 
in reference to the changes of the present life. 

It should mitigate the anxiety which often preys upon 
the mind when we look forward into futurity, and con- 
template the prospect of our own dissolution. We should 
remember, that as the Redeemer alone hath the keys 



Christ the Keyholdee. 291 

of death, nothing can happen to send us forth from the 
world before the time -which he has appointed for our 
departure. Neither man nor devils can abridge the 
term of probation assigned to us by our gracious Mas- 
ter ; nor, until he is pleased to call us away, shall any 
power on earth or in hell prevail against us ; no acci- 
dent, no hostile violence, no insidious snare, no dark 
conspiracy, can touch our life, but by his command. 

The same consideration should prevent or repress the 
anxiety which is too often felt respecting the mode and 
circumstances of our dissolution, not less than respect- 
ing the time of its occurrence. 

This consideration should repress, not only the anxie- 
ties which we feel in regard to the future, but also the 
regrets which we are too apt to cherish respecting the 
bereavements with which we have already been visited. 
It is not less instructive and consoling, when viewed in 
reference to the death of relatives and friends, than 
when it is considered in respect to our own prospect of 
dissolution. For it teaches us, that the duration of each 
man's existence here is determined by the Redeemer ; 
that it belongs to him to appoint a longer or shorter 
period to each, as he will ; and in doing so, we have rea- 
son to be satisfied, that he determines according to the 
dictate- <>f infallible wisdom, although the reasons of his 
procedure must necessarily be to us, for the present, 
inscrutable. We cannot tell why one is removed in 
infancy, another in boyhood, a third in the prime of 
manly rigonr, and a fourth reserved to the period of 



Leaning on the Beloved. 



old age ; and, above all, why the most promising in talent 
and character, and the most useful in their several sta- 
tions, are taken away, while others of inferior worth 
are often left behind ; but suffice it for us, that this hap- 
pens not by chance, neither is it the result of caprice or 
carelessness, but flows from that unerring wisdom, whose 
counsels are formed on a view of all possible relations 
and consequences, whether as to the visible or invisible, 
the present or the future states of being. The power 
of death being in the hands of the Redeemer, the dura- 
tion of human life is, in every instance, determined by 
him ; and none, therefore, ought to entertain the thought, 
either that death is, in one case, unduly -premature, or, 
in another, unduly delayed. None live, either for a 
longer or for a shorter period than infinite wisdom has 
assigned to them ; and as reason teaches, that to his 
appointment we must submit, however unwilling, it being 
irresistible, and far beyond our control,— so, as Christ- 
ians, we should learn to acquiesce in it cheerfully, as 
the appointment of one who cannot err. That the 
determined hour had arrived, is a reflection that should 
serve to banish every useless regret, — but that this hour 
was fixed by one in whose wisdom we confide, and of 
whose interest in our welfare we have the strongest 
assurance, is a thought which should not only induce 
resignation, but inspire comfort and peace. 

For, when death does seize any of our friends, whether 
in the ordinary course of disease and decay, or by vio- 
lence or accident, how consolatory to the mourning rela- 



Christ the Keyholder. 293 

tives is the thought, that it came at the bidding of the 
Saviour, and that it has not arrived -without his sanction 
and appointment ! Otherwise, we might be apt to 
reflect, with unavailing regret, on certain needless expo- 
sures that might have been avoided, certain remedies 
whose virtues might have been tried, certain names high 
in professional reputation, who might have been con- 
sulted; or to dwell, with painful self-reproach, on cer- 
tain accidents that might have been prevented, and 
injuries which timely care might have cured. The mind 
will often busy itself with such reflections after the loss 
of a near and dear friend ; but the very intensity of feel- 
ing which is thus called forth, is a sufficient proof that 
any carelessness or negligence that may have been mani- 
fested, was far, very far, from being designed or wilful. 
And although, where criminal negligence has been 
shown, no doctrine, however consolatory, can prevent 
regret, or should repress feelings of penitential sorrow; 
yet, in other cases, where the heart bears witness to its 
own interest in the beloved object, the doctrine of 
Christ's absolute command over the keys of death, and 
the consideration that our friend was summoned away 
by ;i deliberate act of his sovereign wisdom, may well 
assuage the grief which such reflections on the com- 
mencement, progress, and treatment of the disease, are 
wont to awaken in the mosl sensitive and affectionate 
minds. 

While ilii- sublime statement Bhould banish, or at 
mitigate, the anxieties and regrets which uc some- 



294 Leaning on the Beloved. 

times experience, in reference to the events of the 
present life, inasmuch as Christ's power over death im- 
plies a corresponding power over life and its affairs, it 
is equally fitted to fortify our minds for the last struggle 
of nature, since it assures us that Christ will then be 
present with us. In the very article of death, it gives 
us comfort. For, hath the Redeemer the keys of death ? 
Then he presides over that dark passage which leads 
from this world to the next ; his power does not termi- 
nate with our present life ; it extends from the world 
which is smiling in the cheerful light of day, to that 
mysterious passage which lies amidst the sepulchres of 
the dead, and which, to our imperfect vision, is shrouded 
in impenetrable darkness. We know not the secrets of 
that passage. We cannot know what it is to die. The 
mind may then have views and feelings of which it is 
impossible for us at present to form any conception ; 
for who shall attempt to describe what may be passing 
in the soul when the tie that binds it to the body is 
breaking, and nature is undergoing dissolution ? And 
what renders that scene still more awful is, that we die 
alone, — alone we enter on the dark valley. Friends 
and family may stand around our couch, and watch the 
progress of dissolution ; but they cannot accompany us, 
neither are they sensible of what we feel, nor able in 
any way to help or deliver us. The spirit departs 
alone ; and in that awful hour of separation from human 
fellowship, — in that solitude of death, when, placed on 
the verge of the invisible world, we know that all behind 



Christ the Keyholder. 295 

must be forsaken, and are ignorant of what may meet 
us as we advance, oh ! how consolatory to reflect, that 
death itself is subject to the Redeemer's power, — that 
he watches over the dissolution of his people, and keeps 
his eye, not only on the busy scenes of life, but also on 
the secret mysteries of death. Yes, "precious in the 
sight of the Lord is the death of his sai72ts." There he 
is, where most we need a friend and comforter, standing 
at the gate of death, with absolute power over every 
enemy that can assail us, and with unquenchable zeal 
for our welfare. Dark, then, as the passage is, and 
unknown as are its dangers and pains, surely we may 
venture to commit ourselves into his hands, and to say 
with the Psalmist, "Tea, though I walk through the 
valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil : for 
thou art with me ; thy rod and thy staff they comfort 
me ;" for, says the Apostle, » all things are yours, 
whether Paul, or Apollos, or Cephas, or life, — or death." 

As Christ has the key of the invisible world at large, 
so hath he the key of each ward or department — the 
keys of heaven and of hell. 

Hath he the key of hell ? Then, knowing as Ave do, 
that there are rebellious spirits of great subtlety, and 
power, and malice, and that they are sometimes per- 
mitted to go about as roaring lions, seeking whom they 
devour, we might have many an anxious fear, lest, 
in the dark hour of death, some such should be watch- 
ing for the spirit, when it ventures alone into the invisi- 
ble world ; but " precious in the sight of the Lord is the 



296 Leaning on the Beloved. 

death of his saints," — to that death-bed the Avatchful 
eye of the Saviour is directed ; he can and will restrain 
the malice of our enemies ; and his promise is, that 
" whoso believeth on him shall never come into con- 
demnation," and that " none shall pluck them out of his 
Father's hand." 

And hath the Redeemer the keys of heaven, — that 
blessed asylum of purity and peace, where, in the midst 
of his redeemed, the Saviour himself dwells ? Then, in 
the hands of our best friend, one who is pledged to us 
by the sacredness of his word, and by the shedding of 
his own blood, in his hands is the power of admitting 
us ; — and will he shut the door against us ? — he who, 
for the opening of that door, descended from heaven to 
earth, and whose prayer was and is, "Father, I will 
that they whom thou hast given me, be with me where 
I am, that they may behold my glory ?" No ; the door 
of heaven is thrown open for the reception of his peni- 
tent and believing people. Even now is he " preparing 
a place for them in his Father's house, where there are 
many mansions ;" and thus will he receive and welcome 
them, on their departure hence : " Come, ye blessed of 
my Father, inherit the kingdom prepared for you" — 
" well done, good and faithful servants, enter ye into 

the joy of your Lord." 

Buchanan. 



Christ the Keyholder. 297 



Scriptural Selections. 

He that is our God is the God of salvation ; and unto God the Lord 
belong the issues from death. — Ps. lxviii. 20. 

For the Father judgeth no man, but hath committed all judgment 
unto the Son. — John, v. 22. 

As thou hast given him power over all flesh, that he should give 
eternal life to as many as thou hast given him. 

Father, I -will that they also -whom thou hast given me be with me 
where I am ; that they may behold my glory, which thou hast given 
me : for thou lovedst me before the foundation of the world. — John, 
xvii. 2, 24. 

He that hath an ear, let him hear what the Spirit saith unto the 
churches ; To him that overcometh will I give to eat of the tree of 
life, which is in the midst of the paradise of God. 

Fear none of those things which thou shalt suffer : behold, the devil 
shall cast some of you into prison, that ye may be tried ; and ye shall 
have tribulation ten days : be thou faithful unto death, and I will give 
thee a crown of life. — Rev. ii. 7, 10. 

He that overcometh, the same shall be clothed in white raiment ; 
and I will not blot out his name out of the book of life, but I w r ill con- 
fess his name before my Father, and before his angels. 

Him Chat overcometh will I make a pillar in the temple of my God, 
and he shall go no more out : and 1 will write upon him the name of 
my God, and the Dame of the city of my God, which is new Jerusalem, 
which cometh down ou1 of heaven from my God; and I will write 
h)mpm him my new name. 

To him that overcometh will 1 grant to sit with me in my throne, 
even ai I al rercame, and am Bet down with my Father iu his 

throne. — Rev. iii. •">, 12, 21. 

88 



298 



Leaning on the Beloved. 



I am the Resurrection and the Life." 



Dead in sin, and deep in sbanie, 
Kindle, Lord, a vital flame ; 
Bid the clouds and darkness flee, 
Bid me rise and rest in tliee — 

Raise me, Saviour, 
Raise to all eternity. 

Breathe into this soul of mine 
Life eternal, life divine ; 
Slay these passions, fierce and rife, 
End, end this mortal strife — 

Conquering Saviour, 
Thou the victory art and life. 

Free from sin — from Satan free ; 
Let my life be hid with thee ; 
Send thy seraphs from the skies, 
Seal this living sacrifice — 

Risen Saviour, 
Ceaseless let this incense rise. 

O'er the silence of the tomb, 
May celestial vigour bloom ; 
When the world dissolves in fire, 
Then in robes of light attire — 

Then, Saviour, 
May I join the immortal choir. 






Cjrt Sty m fern 



(200) 



THE SLEEP m JESUS. 



i. 

The Morning Flower Plucked. 

" The flower /acZetft."— Isaiah, xl. 7. 

"ATO sensitive mind can gaze upon a morning flower, 
-Li glittering with dewdrops, and not feel that peculiar 
beauty and peculiar frailty are conjoined in those deli- 
cate petals. 

Attracted by its colours, pleased witli its fragrance, 
charmed by its form or construction, we are led to seek a 
more personal enjoyment of it than can be furnished while 
it abides in the gay parterre, amidst a hundred other 
specimens of floral beauty ; and therefore we pluck it, for 
the vase or for our bosom, that we may appropriate to 
ourselves whatever of fragrance or pleasure it can afford. 

Are we selfish in so doing ? No ; God strewed the 
earth with flowers of various forms, hues, and odours, for 
tin- enjoyment of man. He designed that we should use 
tliein ; they are tin- prodigally scattered luxuries of His 

\<>\ ing kindness, and we honour Him who made them, and 
who gave them to as, by turning our thoughts upon their 
variegated beaul v, and rejoicing in tli<' rich evidence they 

(801) 



302 The Sleep in Jesus. 

afford of the goodness and mercy of our covenant God. 
In the Bible, man is frequently compared to a flower, 
in respect to the frailty and brevity of his life. Job 
says, of him, " He cometh forth like a flower, and is cut 
down." The Psalmist declares, " As for man, his days 
are as grass, as a flower of the field so he flourisheth; 
for the wind passeth over it and it is gone, and the 
place thereof shall know it no more." St. James writes, 
" Let the brother of low degree rejoice in that he is 
exalted, but the rich in that he is made low : because as 
the flower of the grass he shall pass away." And St. 
Peter, compassing in his thought all mankind, exclaims, 
" For all flesh is as grass, and all the glory of man as 
the flower of grass : the grass withereth, and the flower 
thereof falleth away." 

If such language may with perfect propriety be used 
of " all flesh," the old, the robust, the middle-aged, with 
what peculiar emphasis may we speak of infancy as the 
morning flower of human life : beautiful, fragrant, lovely, 
delicate ; yet perhaps to endure but a little while, ere 
disease breaks it on its stem, or death plucks it for the 
grave ! 

It requires but a very casual observation to convince 
us that a large part of those who are born of woman 
die in infancy. If we examine the bills of mortality 
of any city, or district, or nation, we shall be surprised 
at the vast number of deaths under the age of five years. 
Nearly one-fourth of the human race thus pass away in 
the early hours of life's morning. Scarcely a house- 
hold but what contains a vacant cradle, or an empty crib; 



The Morning Flower Plucked. 303 

and from nearly every family death has gathered at 
least one morning flower. The grief which is thus 
occasioned, the loss thus experienced, the void thus 
created, are intensely painful ; such as a bereaved pa- 
rent only can understand. For, though these precious 
babes have been with us but a little season, though they 
are unable to talk with us, and join in our schemes and 
hopes ; though they are objects of deep solicitude and 
watchful care ; though they are unconscious of the 
relations which subsist between us, and return but im- 
perfectly the love which is expended in their care and 
protection, — yet these things only tend to enhance our 
love; and their helplessness, their frailty, their many 
little wants, and the unceasing care which they require, 
bind our hearts to the sweet innocents more closely, and 
cause the well springs of parental love to gush out 
with fuller and deeper flow. 

The plucking of these morning flowers is, therefore, 
intensely painful to the parent's heart. If it be the 
first babe, the one which first opened the fountain of 
parental love, the one in which the youthful pair first 
saw their blended image, whose advent brought sunlight 
and gladness, and awoke emotions of maternal tender- 
ness and paternal care before unknown, oh, how deso- 
latingj heart-riving is the bereavement! The cooing 
roice, the little biugh, the infantile prattle, arc hushed; 
and the chamber echoes no more t<> the clapping of its 
hands, or the patter of its tiny feet. The sunlight 
seems to have passed away ; darkness has settled in its 



304 The Sleep in Jesus. 

place, and there is gloom and woe within that dwelling. 
Even in cases where other children are left behind, 
the loss of the infant, the common centre of the house- 
hold love and care, falls with a deadening weight upon 
the family circle ; a blank, dreary and sad, is made, 
which, perhaps, may never more be filled. There is 
much of truth in the touching words of Longfellow : 

" There is no flock, however -watched and tended, 

But one dead lamb is there ; 
There is no fireside, howsoe'er defended, 

But has one vacant chair !" 

" The air is full of farewells to the dying, 

And mournings for the dead ; 
The heart of Rachel for her children crying, 

Will not be comforted !" 

But is there no comfort for such ? Is there no hope 
in the coffin where the infant lies ? Is the child's grave 
rayless with the light of heavenly consolation ? The Bible 
answers these questions for us with a satisfying fulness. 
It does not indeed tell us in so many words that infants 
and children dying before they come to the years of 
responsibility and discretion, are saved ; but the whole 
spirit of Christ's conduct and apostolic teaching leaves 
upon the candid observer no doubt as to the perfect 
safety and future happiness of all those who, like the 
morning flower, are early plucked away. 

Infants have committed no overt sin, but they are 
all "by nature children of wrath;" they inherit a cor- 



The Morning Flower Plucked. 305 

rupt moral character, and they begin to go astray -with 
the first dawning of accountability. In Adam's fall, 
our entire humanity fell ; and all who partake of that 
humanity, partake necessarily of that fall and corrup- 
tion. Hence, infants are subject to all the evils inci- 
dent to our lapsed condition. They suffer hunger, thirst, 
cold, heat ; they are assailed by sickness, accidents, 
distress of various kinds ; and death, the penalty of the 
first transgression, ever stands ready to strike them 
down. Looking, then, to the state of infants as human 
beings, born in sin, and having within them that "fault 
and corruption of nature (undeveloped, indeed, but still 
there), that naturally is engendered of the offspring of 
Adam ;" in consequence of which every person born 
into this world deserves God's wrath and condemnation, 
we should despair of any hope on their behalf. And 
so also should we despair if shut up to that other fact, 
that salvation is obtained only by the exercise of faith 
in Christ Jesus ; for as infants cannot have faith, there- 
fore they cannot believe; therefore they must be lost. 
But in the case of infants we have reason to believe 
that both these doctrines, true in themselves, and true 
in their foil applicability to adults, are so modified as 
to admit the full salvation of infants, without in the 
slightest degree denying the truth of either doctrine 
stated, or impeaching the justice and anchangeableness 
of God. There Lb bul one Saviour and one salvation; 
and infants, if saved, urn t be saved by thai one Saviour 
and through that one salvation. What then were the 
39 



306 The Sleep in Jesus. 

feelings of Jesus toward children -when on earth ? This 
Ave readily learn from several striking facts. He invited 
them to him ; He laid his hands upon them ; He took 
them up in his arms ; He blessed them ; He said, " Of 
such is the kingdom of heaven." 

How significant is all this of Christ's love and ten- 
derness towards "these little ones!" And if by the 
term " Kingdom of Heaven" is meant the state of per- 
fect felicity in the world above, and there is no reason 
why we should not thus understand it, then " it is an 
explicit affirmation by Him who not only knows what 
will be, but Himself " holds the keys of death and hell ;" 
that of them, " even little children, and of those who, by 
renewing grace, are made like to them, will the inhabit- 
ants of the heavenly world consist." Dr. Doddridge, 
commenting on the narration of Christ's interview with 
these children, as recorded by St. Matthew, remarks, 
" Let parents view this sight with pleasure and thank- 
fulness ; let it encourage them to bring their children 
to Christ by faith, and to commit them to him by bap- 
tism and prayer. And if he who has the keys of death 
and the unseen world see fit to remove those dear crea- 
tures from us in their early days, let the remembrance 
of this story comfort us, and teach us to hope that He 
who so graciously received these children, has not for- 
gotten ours ; but that they are sweetly fallen asleep in 
Him, and will be the everlasting objects of His care 
and love, ' For of such is the Kingdom of Heaven.' " 

To the same purport are the words of Dr. Scott, who 






The Morning Flower Plucked. 307 

says, " Indeed the expression may also intimate that 
the Kingdom of Heavenly Glory is greatly constituted 
of such as die in infancy. Infants are as capable of 
regeneration as grown persons ; and there is abundant 
ground to conclude that all those who have not lived to 
commit actual transgression, though they share in the 
effect of the first Adam's offence, will also share in 
the blessings of the second Adam's gracious covenant, 
without their personal faith and obedience, but not 
without the regenerating influence of the Spirit of 
Christ." 

The views which we thus deduce from Christ's inter- 
view with the little children, are sustained by a further 
consideration of God's character as revealed to us in 
the Bible, and His dealings with the children of men. 
His character is spotlessly holy, just, and good. Nor 
can He do anything which will at all conflict with this 
representation of Himself in His blessed word. But 
to consign one-half of the entire race of men to eter- 
nal death because they did not exercise an active faith 
in Christ, when, by reason of their tender age, they 
could not either know Him or believe in Him ; to cut 
them thus off before even an opportunity was afforded 
tlicin for the manifestation of faith; not giving to them 
a common chance of salvation, but hurrying them away 
rlasting woe before their minds opened to a know- 
Ledge of themselves or God; such a course of proce- 
dure i-, bo abhorrent to .-ill our ideas of divine mercy 
and justice, that every instinct of our nature shrinks 



308 The Sleep in Jesus. 

from believing it, and constrains us to say that infants 
are saved through the abounding grace of God mani- 
fested in Christ Jesus our Lord. 

"I take it as a fact," says a distinguished writer, 
" that divine benevolence does not in any case inflict 
penal evil upon any intelligent creature, nor withhold 
from them appropriate happiness, unless where the 
penalty has been incurred and the forfeiture made by 
sin ; in that case divine law and justice must be vindi- 
cated. In the case of infants, the vindication has been 
made, and through Christ they may be saved. That 
believers may and will be saved is absolutely certain. 
Infants cannot believe ; but will they for that reason 
perish ? May not, will not divine benevolence impart 
to them the prepared salvation which they need, but 
which, through natural incompetency, they cannot seek 
and accept ? Under the moral government of God it 
is a recognised fact, that responsibility is always pro- 
portional to the opportunities and means which He has 
given to men to know and do His will. < The servant 
who knew his master's will and did it not, shall be 
beaten with many stripes ; but he who knew not his 
master's will, and committed things worthy of stripes, 
shall be beaten with few.' Absolute and invincible 
ignorance of duty can involve no responsibility; as 
many as have sinned without the revealed law, will be 
dealt with accordingly; and they who sin under and 
with a knowledge of the law, will be judged by the law. 
The heathen will not be condemned for not believing 



The Morning Flower Plucked. 309 

the gospel which they had never heard, and of which 
they had no knowledge. No more will be required of 
them, nor of any, than a faithful improvement of the 
means of knowledge and obedience which they had. It 
is their unfaithfulness to what they knew, or might and 
ought to have known, that leaves them guilty and with- 
out excuse. Will infants perish because of their non- 
acceptance of a Saviour, although their natural imbe- 
cility renders such acceptance an absolute impossibility ? 
I admit and believe that they ' are by nature children 
of wrath ;' but, as they do not live to years of moral 
agency to resist and reject either natural or revealed 
religion, will they not be saved by grace ? Will they 
not be the objects of the benevolence and mercy of 
Him who has sworn that He has no pleasure even in 
the death of those who defy His authority, reject His 
grace, and die in their sins ? God's vindictive displea- 
sure is exercised against wilful sinners only. Where 
there is no crime he delights in showing favour and 
conferring happiness. This is true as to holy angels, 
and all other upright and intelligent creatures ; and 
even on fallen man He delights to bestow happiness 
where Hi- justice is recognised and His mercy sought ; 
and tlir grace which reigns through righteousness unto 
eternal life by Jesus Chrisl our Lord, docs not will that 
one of these little ones should perish." 

When then we behold, as we so often do, these 
morning Sowers plucked by death, what should be our 
feelings? I well know what are our feelings; but what 



310 The Sleep in Jesus. 

ought to be their character ? The flesh cries out in its 
anguish ; the heart mourns its removed idol ; the spirit 
bends and almost breaks beneath its burden of sorrow ; 
but if we regarded the matter aright, we should find in 
this affliction a source of precious consolation. The 
child early lost is early saved. Before its tender years 
had been made rigid with guilt, while its young mind 
had scarcely taken in the meaning of sin, and ere its 
little heart had developed the evil principles of a cor- 
rupt nature, it was removed to a world where sin is not, 
where holiness alone abides. And not only so, but it 
is taken away from a mass of sin, ignorance, sorrow, 
sickness, pain, distress, disappointment, which, as avc 
look back upon life, almost appals, and which, had we 
contemplated it in full at the beginning of our career, 
we should have prayed for death to release us from its 
burden. To this untold amount of suffering, avoided by 
the early removal of children, we must add the equally 
untold amount of happiness which they enjoy in heaven. 
It is the aim of all parents to remove from their chil- 
dren suffering of every sort, and to bestow upon them 
pleasures of every proper kind. To this end they toil, 
and watch, and pray ; and yet, after all, how imper- 
fectly do they succeed, either in driving away sorrow 
or in securing joy ; the sad scenes and hours of life 
Avill predominate, and cast dismal shadows over our 
devious paths. But death takes from these darlings all 
sources of woe and sorrow, and ushers them into full 
and perfect bliss ; and why should father or mother 



The Morning Flower Plucked. 311 

mourn when such a priceless boon has been bestoAved 
upon their precious child ? They may well mourn that 
they shall fold the lamb no more in their arms, that its 
sweet face will no more smile on them, or its little 
tongue no more utter their names ; they may sorrow 
that so great a blank is made in their household, and 
so many tendril-like ties that clasped their babe have 
been torn away ; but for the dead one they should not 
mourn. They should for it rejoice ; and it is a self- 
ish feeling which would bring it back to this world 
of sin, and temptation, and misery, and take it 
away from that land of holy bliss, simply to fill our 
arms again with its form, and cheer our hearts again 
with its presence. The emotions which should be 
cherished have been well portrayed and beautifully 
illustrated by the following outpouring of a parent's 
heart on the second anniversary of the death of the 
little lamb of his flock. Its simplicity must touch the 
heart of every reader, while its truth and beauty are 
eminently scriptural and comforting: 

" Two years ago to-day he went to heaven. With us 
they have been long, long years since we heard the sound 
dl* bis sweet voice, arid the merry laugh that burst from 
hia glad heart. ll< i was the youngest of our flock. 
Three Bummers bo had been with US, and 0! lie was 
brighter and sunnier than any summer day of them all. 
But he died as the third year of his life was closing. 
The others were older than he, and all we had of child- 
hood's glee and gladness were buried when we laid him 



Sl2 The Sleep in Jesus. 

in the grave. Since then our hearts have been yearning 
for the boy that is gone. < Gone, but not lost !' we 
have said a thousand times ; and we think of him ever 
as living and blessed in another place not far from us. 

" Two years in heaven ! They do not measure time 
in that world ; there are no weeks, or months, or years ; 
but all the time we have been mourning his absence 
here, he has been happy there. And when we think 
of what he has been enjoying, and the rapid progress 
he has been making, we feel that it is well for him that 
he has been taken away. 

» Two years with angels ! They have been his con- 
stant companions, his teachers too ; and from them he 
has drawn lessons of knowledge and of love. The 
cherubim are said to excel in knowledge, while love 
glows more ardently in the breast of seraphim. He 
has been two years in the company of both, and must 
have become very like them. 

" Two years with the redeemed ! They have told 
him of the Saviour, in whose blood they wash their 
robes, and whose righteousness is their salvation. The 
child, while with us, knew little of Jesus and His dying 
love ; but he has heard of Him now, and has learned 
to love Him who said, < Suffer little children to come 
unto me.' There are some among those redeemed who 
would have loved him here, had they been living with 
us ; but they went to glory before him, and have wel- 
comed him now to their company. I am not sure they 
know him as our child ; and vet do we love to think 



The Morning Flower Plucked. 313 

that he is in the arms of those who have gone from our 
arms, and thus broken families are reunited around the 
throne of God and the Lamb. 

" Two years with Christ ! It is joy to know that 
our child has been two years with the Saviour, in His 
immediate presence, learning of Him, and making heaven 
vocal ^ith songs of rapture and love. The blessed 
Saviour took little children in his arms when he was 
here on earth, and he takes them in his bosom there. 
Blessed Jesus ! blessed children ! blessed child ! 

" He often wept when he was with us ; he suffered much 
before he died ; seven days and nights he was torn with 
fierce convulsion ere his soul yielded and fled to heaven. 
But now for two years he has not wept ! He has known 
no pain for two years. That little child who was pleased 
with a rattle, now meets with angels, and feels himself 
at home. He walks among the tallest spirits that bend 
in the presence of the Infinite, and is as free and happy 
as any who are there. And when Ave think of joys that 
are his, we are more than willing that he should stay 
where lie now dwells, though our hope is darkened by 
the shadow of his grave, and our hearts are aching all 
the time for bis return. Long and weary have been the 
years without him : but they have been blessed years 
to liim in heaven. <Evcn so, Father.' 'Not our will, 
but t bine be done.' " 

Bow many kindling, glowing thoughts are suggested 
by the plucking of these morning Sowers! We call to 
mind their number, and imagination revels amidst the 
to 



31-i The Sleep in Jesus. 

myriads of children in the world of glory. We think 
of their beauty, perfect in the comeliness which their 
God has put upon them. We think of their employ- 
ments, vying with each other, as did the children in the 
temple at Jerusalem, in singing " Hosannas to the Son 
of David." We reflect upon their growth, expanding 
in soul and mind under the tuition of angels, and away 
from the depressing influences of sin and earth, and we 
imagine their gladness as they welcome within those 
gates of pearl their fathers, mothers, brothers, and sis- 
ters, and lead them to " Him who sitteth upon the 
throne" of heaven. These, and other kindred thoughts, 
press upon the mind as we see death busily gathering 
these morning flowers for the Paradise of God. There 
is one, however, that should be thrown into bolder 
relief than the rest, for it is of deep practical import- 
ance. How much ought parents who have lost children 
to love the Saviour who has taken them to himself in 
glory ! Father, whose child was taken from your arms 
that it might be folded in the Saviour's arms, and 
crowned by Him with unending joy, do you love the 
Saviour who thus honoured your child and blessed it 
with His grace and His salvation ? Mother, whose babe 
was removed from your breast that it might rest in 
glory on the Saviour's bosom, do you love that Saviour 
who thus early took your lamb from the tangled wilder- 
ness and dark pitfalls of earth, and made it to dwell a 
bright and happy spirit in the world of bliss ? You 
would love an earthly benefactor, but who of earth 



The Morning Flower Plucked. 315 

could bestow upon your child the boon of everlasting 
life ? And shall you not love Him by -whose death 
death is conquered ; by whose blood sin is pardoned ; 
by whose grace souls are saved ; by whose mercy your 
darling child has been taken from the evil to come, and 
made " an heir of God and joint heir of Christ to an 
inheritance that is incorruptible, and undefiled, and that 
fadeth not away ?" Love the Saviour who loved your 
child, and said " Suffer little children to come unto me, 
for of such is the Kingdom of Heaven!" Love the 
Saviour who has transplanted your child into this king- 
dom ! and then, when death shall take you hence, you 
shall rejoin your child and dwell together in the presence 

chamber of your God. 

Stevens. 



31G 



The Sleep in Jesus. 



Scriptural Selections. 



Axd it came to pass on the seventh day, that the child died. And 
the servants of David feared to tell him that the child was dead ; for 
they said, Behold, while the child was yet alive, we spake unto him, 
and he would not hearken unto our voice: how will he then vex him- 
self, if we tell him that the child is dead ? 

But when David saw that his servants whispered, David perceived 
that the child was dead: therefore David said unto his servants, Is 
the child dead ? And they said, He is dead. 

Then David arose from the earth, and washed, and anointed himself, 
and changed his apparel, and came into the house of the Lord and 
worshipped : then he came to his own house : and when he recpaired, 
they set bread before him, and he did cat. 

Then said his servants unto him, What thing is this that thou hast 
done ? Thou didst fast and weep for the child while it was alive ; 
but when the child was dead, thou didst rise and eat bread. 

And he said, While the child was yet alive, I fasted and wept : for 
I said, Who can tell whether God will be gracious to me, that the 
child may live? — 2 Samuel, xii. 18-23. 

Then were there brought unto him little children, that he should 
put his hands on them, and pray : and the disciples rebuked them. 

But Jesus said, Suffer little children, and forbid them not to come 
unto me ; for of such is the kingdom of heaven. 

And he laid his hands on them, and departed thence. — Malt. xix. 
13-15. 

Verily I say unto you, Whosoever shall not receive the kingdom of 
God as a little child, he shall not enter therein. — Mark, x. 15. 






The Morning Flower Plucked. 317 



The Gathered Flower. 

And this is death! how cold and still, 

And yet how lovely it appears ! 
Too cold to let the gazer smile, 

And yet too beautiful for tears. 
The sparkling eye no more is bright, 

The cheek hath lost its rose-like red; 
And yet it is with strange delight 

I stand and gaze upon the dead. 

But when I see the fair wide brow, 

Half shaded by the silken hair, 
That never looked so fair as now, 

When life and health were laughing there, 
I wonder not that grief should swell 

So wildly upward in the breast, 
And that strong passion once rebel, 

That need not, cannot be suppressed. 

And yet why mourn ? that deep repose 

Shall never more be broke by pain ; 
Those lips no more in sighs unclose, 

Those eyes shall never weep again. 
For think nut thai the blushing flower 

Shall wither in the churchyard sod, 
'Twos made to gild un ongel'e bower 

Within the paradise of God. 



II. 
Tiie Sun going down while yet Day. 

*' She Jiath given up the ghost ; her sun is gone down while it was yet day."— Jekkmiah, xy. 9. 

BEAUTIFULLY illustrative of the words of the 
weeping Prophet is the following account of the 
death of Miss Eliza Cuningham, written by her uncle, 
the Rev. John Newton, rector of St. Mary, Woolnoth, 
London. It has been slightly abridged, but no im- 
portant matter has been omitted. 

In May. 1782, my sister Cuningham was at Edin- 
burgh, chiefly on account of her eldest daughter, then 
in the fourteenth year of her age, Avho was very ill of a 
consumption. She had already buried an only son, at 
the age of twelve ; and while all a mother's care and 
feelings were engaged by the rapid decline of a second 
amiable child, she was unexpectedly and suddenly be- 
reaved of an affectionate husband. Her trials were 
great, but the Lord had prepared her for them. She 
was a believer. Her faith was strong ; her graces 
active ; her conduct exemplary. She walked with God, 
and he supported her. And though she was a tender 
and sympathizing friend, she had a happy firmness of 
temper, so that her character as a Christian, and the 

propriety of her behaviour in every branch of life, 

(318) 



The Sun going down while yet Day. 319 

appeared with peculiar advantage in the season of 
affliction. She returned to Anstruther a widow, with 
her sick child, who languished till Octoher, and then 
died. 

Though my sister had many valuable and pleasing 
connexions in Scotland, yet her strongest tie being 
broken, she readily accepted my invitation to come and 
live with us. She was not only dear to me as Mrs. 
Newton's sister, but we had lived long in the habits of 
intimate friendship. I knew her worth, and she was 
partial to me. She had yet one child remaining, her 
dear Eliza. We already had a dear orphan niece, whom 
we had, about seven years before, adopted for our own 
daughter. My active, fond imagination, anticipated 
the time of her arrival, and drew a pleasing picture of 
the addition the company of such a sister, such a friend, 
would make to the happiness of our family. The child- 
ren likewise — there was no great disparity between 
them either in years or stature. From what I had 
heard of Eliza, I was prepared to love her before I saw 
her ; though she came afterwards into my hands like a 
heap of untold gold, which, when counted over, proves 
to be a larger sum than was expected. My fancy 
paired and united these children; I hoped that the 
friendship between as and my sister would lie per- 
petuated in them; I Beemed to sec them like twin 
. of one hearl and mind, habited nearly alike, 
always together, always with us. Such was my plan 
— but the Lord's plan was \cry different, and therefore 



320 



The Sleep in Jesus. 



mine failed. It is happy for us poor short-sighted 
creatures, unable as we are to foresee the consequences 
of our own wishes, that if we know and trust him, he 
is often pleased to put a merciful negative upon our 
purposes ; and condescends to choose better for us than 
we can for ourselves. What might have been the issue 
of my plan, could it have taken place, I know not ; hut 
I can now praise and adore him for the gracious issue 
of his. I praise his name, that I can cheerfully comply 
with his word, which says, "Be still, and know that I 
am God." I not only can how (as it becomes a creature 
and a sinner to do) to his sovereignty ; but I admire 
his wisdom and goodness, and can say from my heart, 
« He has done all things well." 

My sister had settled her affairs previous to her re- 
moval, and nothing remained, but to take leave of her 
friends, of whom she had many not only in Anstruther, 
but in different parts of the country. In February, 
1783, I received a letter from her, which before I 
opened, I expected was to inform me that she was upon 
the road in her way to London. But the information 
was, that in a little journey she had made to bid a 
friend farewell, she had caught a violent cold, which 
brought on a fever and a cough, with other symptoms, 
which though she described as gently as possible, that 
we might not be alarmed, obliged me to give up instantly 
the pleasing hope of seeing her. Succeeding letters 
confirmed my apprehensions ; her malady increased, and 
she was soon confined to her bed. Eliza was at school 



The Sun going down while yet Day. 821 

at Musselburgh. Till then she had enjoyed a perfect 
state of health ; but while her dear mother was rapidly 
declining, she likewise caught a great cold, and her life 
was soon thought to be in danger. On this occasion, 
that fortitude and resolution which so strongly marked 
my sister's character, was remarkably displayed. She 
knew that her own race was almost finished ; she 
earnestly desired that Eliza might live or die with us : 
And the physicians advised a speedy removal to the 
South. Accordingly, to save time and to save Eliza 
from the impressions which the sight of a dying parent 
might probably make upon her spirits, and possibly 
apprehensive that the interview might make too great 
an impression upon her own, she sent this her only 
beloved child from Edinburgh directly to London, with- 
out letting her come home to take a last leave of her. 
She contented herself with committing and bequeathing 
her child to our care and love, in a letter, which I 
believe was the last she was able to write. 

Thus powerfully recommended by the pathetic charge 
of a dying parent, the dearest friend we had upon earth, 
and by that plea for compassion, which her illness might 
have strongly urged even upon strangers, we received 
our dear Eliza as a trust, and as a treasure, on the 
fifteenth of March. My sister lived long enough to have 
the comforl of knowing, not only that she was safely 
arrived, bill was perfectly pleased with her new situa- 
tion. She was now freed from all earthly cares. She 
Buffered much in the remaining part of her illness, but 
11 



322 



The Sleep in Jesus. 



she knew in whom she believed; she possessed a peace 
past understanding, and a hope full of glory. She 
entered into the joy of her Lord on the tenth of May, 
1783, respected and regretted by all who knew her. 

I now perceived that the Lord had sent me a treasure 
indeed. Eliza's person was agreeable. There was an 
ease and elegance in her whole address, and a graceful- 
ness, till long illness and great weakness bowed her 
down. Her disposition was lively, her genius quick and 
inventive, and if she had enjoyed health, she probably 
would have excelled in everything she attempted, that 
required ingenuity. Her understanding, particularly 
her judgment, and her sense of propriety, was far above 
her years. There was something in her appearance 
which usually procured her favour at first sight. She 
was honoured by the notice of several persons of dis- 
tinction, which, though I thankfully attribute in part to 
their kindness to me, I believe was a good deal owing to 
something uncommon in her. But her principal endear- 
ing qualities, which could be only fully known to us, 
who lived with her, were the sweetness of her temper, 
and a heart formed for the exercise of affection, grati- 
tude, and friendship. Whether, when at school, she 
might have heard sorrowful tales from children, who, 
having lost their parents, met with a great difference, in 
point of tenderness, when they came under the direc- 
tion of uncles and aunts, and might think that all 
uncles and aunts were alike, I know not ; but I have 
understood since from herself, that she did not come to 



The Sun going down while yet day. 323 

us with any highly raised expectations of the treatment 
she was to meet with. But as she found (the Lord in 
mercy to her and to us having opened our hearts to 
receive her) that it was hardly possible for her own 
parents to have treated her more tenderly, and that it 
was from that time the business and pleasure of our 
lives to study how to oblige her, and how to alleviate 
the afflictions we were unable to remove ; so we like- 
wise found, that the seeds of our kindness could hardly 
be sown in a more promising and fruitful soil. I know 
not that either her aunt or I ever saw a cloud upon her 
countenance during the time she was with us. It is 
true we did not, we could not unnecessarily cross her ; 
but if we thought it expedient to overrule any proposal 
she made, she acquiesced with a sweet smile : and we 
were certain that we should never hear of that proposal 
again. Her delicacy however was quicker than our 
observation ; and she would sometimes say, when we 
could not perceive the least reason for it, " I am afraid 
I answered you peevishly ; indeed I did ; if I did, I ask 
your pardon. I should be very ungrateful, if I 
thought any pleasure equal to that of endeavouring to 
please you." It is no wonder that wo dearly loved 
such a child. 

Wonderful is the frame of the human heart. The 
Lord claims and deserves it all; yet there is still room 
for all the charities of relative life, and scope for their 
full play; and they are capable of yielding the sincerest 



324 The Sleep in Jesus. 

pleasures this world can afford, if held in subordination 
to what is supremely due to him. 

The hectic fever, cough, and sweats, which Eliza 
brought with her from Scotland, were subdued in the 
course of the summer, and there appeared no reason to 
apprehend that she would be taken off very suddenly. 
But still there was a worm preying upon the root of 
this pretty gourd. She had seldom any severe pain, till 
within the last fortnight of her life, and usually slept 
well; but when awake she was always ill. I believe 
she knew not an hour of perfect ease ; and they who 
intimately knew her state, could not but wonder to see 
her so placid, cheerful, and attentive, when in company, 
as she generally was. Many times, when the tears 
have silently stolen down her cheeks, if she saw that her 
aunt or I observed her, she would wipe them away, 
come to us with a smile and a kiss ; and say, " Do not 
be uneasy, I am not very ill, I can bear it, I shall be 
better presently;" or to that effect. 

Her case was thought beyond the reach of medicine, 
and, for a time, no medicine was used. She had air 
and exercise, as the weather and circumstances would 
permit. For the rest, she amused herself as she could 
with her guitar or harpsichord, with her needle, and 
with reading. She had a part likewise, when able, in 
such visits as we paid or received ; and our visits were 
generally regulated by a regard to what she could bear. 
Her aunt, especially, seldom went abroad but at such 
times, and to such places, as we thought agreeable and 



The Sun going down while-yet Day. 325 

convenient to her. For we could perceive that she 
loved home best, and best of all when we were at home 
with her. 

In April, 1784, we put her under the care of my dear 
friend Dr. Benamor. To the blessing of the Lord on 
his skill and endeavours, I ascribe the pleasure of hav- 
ing her continued with us so long. But what can the 
most efficacious medicines, or the best physicians, avail 
to prolong life, when the hour approaches, in which the 
prayer of the Great Intercessor must be accomplished, 
"Father, I will that they whom thou hast given me 
may be with me where I am to behold my glory ?" 
This was the proper cause of my dear Eliza's death. 
The Lord sent this child to me to be brought up for 
him ; he owned my poor endeavours : and when her 
education was completed, and she was ripened for 
heaven, he took her home to himself. He has richly 
paid mc my wages, in the employment itself, and in the 
happy issue. 

Dr. Benamor advising a trial of the salt water, we 
1 the month of August, 1784, with her, partly at 
Mr. Walter Taylor's, at Southampton, and partly at 
Charles Etty's, Esq., of Pricstlands, near Symington. 
While she was with these kind and generous friends, 
she had every accommodation and assistance that could 
be thought "I" <>r wished for. And the bathing was evi- 
dently useful, so far a >me additional strength 
td her \< iry weak and relaxed frame, which assisted her 
in going more comfortably through the lasl winter. We 



326 The Sleep in Jesus. 

were, therefore, encouraged, and advised to repeat our 
visit to Southampton this autumn. But the success was 
not the same. Her feet and legs had already begun to 
swell, and the evening before she took cold, which 
brought on a return of the fever and cough ; and though 
Dr. Allen was successful in removing these symptoms 
in about a fortnight, and she bathed a few times, she 
could not persevere. However, the advantages of 
situation, air, and exercise, being much greater than she 
could have in London, and as we were with friends 
whom she, as well as we, dearly loved, she continued 
at Southampton six weeks ; but she was unable to pro- 
ceed to Mr. Etty's, who was very desirous of repeating 
his former kindness. The Lord strengthened her to 
perform her journey home without inconvenience. She 
returned the sixteenth of September ; then she entered 
our door for the last time, for she went out no more, 
till she was carried out to be put into the hearse. 

I have thus put together, in one view, a brief account 
of what relates to her illness, till within the last three 
weeks of her pilgrimage. I now come to what is much 
more important and interesting. Her excellent parents 
had conscientiously endeavoured to bring her up in the 
nurture and admonition of the Lord, and the principles 
of religion had been instilled into her from her infancy. 
Their labours were thus far attended with success, 
that no child could be more obedient or obliging, or 
more remote from evil habits or evil tempers ; but I 
could not perceive, when she came to us, that she had 



The Sun going down while yet Day. 327 

any heart-affecting sense of divine things. But being 
under my roof, she of course, when her health would 
permit, attended on my ministry, and was usually present 
when I prayed and expounded the Scripture?, morning 
and evening, in the family. Friends and ministers 
were likewise frequently with us, whose character and 
conversation were well suited to engage her notice, and 
to help her to form a right idea of the Christian princi- 
ples and temper. Knowing that she was of a thinking 
turn, I left her to make her own reflections upon what 
she saw and heard, committing her to the Lord from 
whom I had received her, and entreating him to be her 
effectual teacher. When I did attempt to talk with her 
upon the concerns of her soul, she could give me no 
answer but with tears. But I soon had great encourage- 
ment to hope that the Lord had both enlightened her 
understanding, and had drawn the desires of her heart 
to himself. Great was her delight in the ordinances ; 
exemplary her attention under the preaching. To be 
debarred from going to hear prayer at our stated times, 
was a trial which, though she patiently bore, seemed to 
affect her more than any other, and she did not greatly 
care what she endured in the remainder of the week, 
provided she was well enough to attend the public 
worship. The judicious observations she sometimes 
made upon whal had passed iii conversation, upon inci- 
dents, books, and Bermons, indicated a sound scriptural 

judgment, and a spiritual taste. Ami my hope was 
confirmed by her whole deportment, which was becoming 



328 The Sleep in Jesus. 

the Gospel of Christ. So that had she died suddenly, 
on any day within about a year and a half past, I should 
have had no doubt that she had passed from death unto 
life. But I could seldom prevail with her to speak of 
herself: if she did, it was with the greatest diffidence 
and caution. 

Soon after her return from Southampton, she became 
acquainted with acute pain, to which she had, till then, 
been much a stranger. Her gentle spirit, which had 
borne up under a long and languishing illness, was not 
so capable of supporting pain. It did not occasion any 
improper temper or language, but it wore her away 
apace. Friday the thirteenth of September, she was 
down stairs for the last time, and then she was brought 
down and carried up in arms. 

It now became very desirable to hear from herself an 
explicit account of the hope that was in her ; especially 
as, upon some symptoms of an approaching mortifica- 
tion, she appeared to be a little alarmed, and of course, 
not thoroughly reconciled to the thoughts of death. 
Her aunt waited for the first convenient opportunity of 
intimating to her the probability that the time of her 
departure was at hand. The next morning, Saturday 
the first of October, presented one. She found herself 
remarkably better ; her pains were almost gone, her 
spirits revived ; the favourable change was visible in her 
countenance. Her aunt began to break the subject to 
her by saying, "My dear, were you not extremely ill 
last night?" She replied, "Indeed I was." "Had 



The Sun going down while yet day. 829 

you not been relieved, I think you could not have con- 
tinued long." " I believe I could not." « My dear, I 
have been very anxiously concerned for your life." 
» But I hope, my dear aunt, you are not so now." She 
then opened her mind and spoke freely. I cannot 
repeat the whole ; the substance was to this effect : 
» My views of things have been for some time very 
different from what they were when I came to you. I 
have seen and felt the vanity of childhood and youth." 
Her aunt said, " I believe you have long made a con- 
science of secret prayer.'" She answered, " Yes ; I have 
long and earnestly sought the Lord, with reference to 
the change which is now approaching. I have not yet 
that full assurance which is so desirable ; but I have a 
hope, I trust, a good hope, and I believe the Lord will 
give me whatever he sees necessary for me, before he 
takes me from hence. I have prayed to him to fit me 
for himself; and then, whether sooner or later, it 
signifies but little." Here was a comfortable point 
gained. We were satisfied that she had given up all 
expectation of living, and could speak of her departure 
without being distressed. 

It will not be expected that a child at her age should 
speak systematically. Nor had Bhe learnt her religion 
from a system or form of words, however sound. The 
Lord himself was her teacher. But, from what little 
she had al different times said to me, I was well satis- 
fied thai she had received a true conviction of the evil 
of sin, and of her own state by nature as ;i sinner. 
42 



330 The Sleep in Jesus. 

When she spoke of the Lord, she meant the Lord Jesus 
Christ, the Great Shepherd, -who gathers such lambs 
in his arms, and carries them in his bosom. She 
believed him to be God and man in one person ; and 
that hope, of which she shall never be ashamed, was 
founded on his atonement, grace, and power. As I do 
not intend to put words into her mouth which she never 
spoke, I mention this lest any person should be dis- 
appointed at not finding a certain phraseology to which 
they may have been accustomed. 

Her apparent revival was of short duration. In the 
evening of the same day, she began to complain of a 
sore throat, which became worse, and, before Sunday 
noon, threatened an absolute suffocation. When Dr. 
Benamor, who the day before had almost entertained 
hopes of her recovery, found her so suddenly and greatly 
altered, he could not at the moment prevent some signs 
of his concern from appearing in his countenance. She 
quickly perceived it, and desired he would plainly tell 
her his sentiments. When he had recovered himself he 
said, "You are not so well as when I saw you on 
Saturday." She answered, that she trusted all would 
be well soon. He replied, that whether she lived or 
died, it would be well and to the glory of God. He 
told me that he had much pleasing conversation with 
her that morning ; some particulars of which he had 
committed to writing, but that he had lost the paper. 
From that time she may be said to have been dying, as 
we expected her departure from one hour to another. 



The Sun going down while yet Day. 831 

When the doctor came on Wednesday, she entreated 
him to tell her how long he thought she might live. He 
said, " Are you in earnest, my dear ?" She answered, 
" Indeed I am." At that time there were great appear- 
ances that a mortification had actually begun. He there- 
fore told her, he thought it possible she might hold out 
till eight in the evening, but did not expect she could 
survive midnight at furthest. On hearing him say so, 
low as she was, her eyes seemed to sparkle with their 
former vivacity, and fixing them on him with an air of 
ineffable satisfaction, she said, " Oh, that is good news 
indeed." And she repeated it as such t'o a person who 
came soon after into the room, and said with lively 
emotions of joy, " The doctor tells me I shall stay here 
but a few hours more." In the afternoon she noticed 
and counted the clock, I believe, every time it struck ; 
and when it struck seven, she said, " Another hour, and 
then !" But it pleased the Lord to spare her to us 
another day. 

She suffered much in the course of Wednesday night, 
but was quite resigned and patient. Our kind servants, 
who, from their love to her and to us, watched her 
night and day with a solicitude and tenderness which 
wealth is too poor to purchase — were the only witnesses 
of the affectionate and grateful manner in which she 
repeatedly thanked them for their services and atten- 
tion to her. 

I was surprised on Thursday morning to find her not 
only alive, but in some respects better. The tokens of 



332 The Sleep in Jesus. 

mortification again disappeared. This was her last day, 
and it was a memorable day to us. When Dr. Benamor 
asked her how she was, she answered, « Truly happy, 
and if this be dying, it is a pleasant thing to die." She 
said to me about ten o'clock, « My dear uncle, I would 
not change conditions with any person upon earth. 
Oh, how gracious is the Lord to me! Oh, what a 
change is before me I" She was several times asked, 
if she could wish to live, provided the Lord should 
restore her to perfect health? Her answer was, "Not 
for all the world," and sometimes "Not for a thousand 
worlds.* Do 'not weep for me, my dear aunt; but 
rather rejoice and praise on my account." We asked 
her if she would choose a text for her own funeral 
sermon ? She readily mentioned, Whom the Lord 
loveth he chasteneth. " That," said she, "has been my 
experience ; my afflictions have been many, but not too 
many ; nor has the greatest of them been too great ; I 
praise him for them all." But after a pause, she said, 
" Stay, I think there is another text which may do 
better ; let it be Blessed are the dead which die in the 
Lord. That is my experience now." She likewise 
chose a hymn to be sung after the sermon. 

But I must check myself, and set down but a small 
part of the gracious words which the Lord enabled her 
to speak in the course of the day. Though she was 
frequently interrupted by pains and agonies, she had 

* The last time she -was asked this question she said (as I have 
been since informed), "I desire to have no choice." 



The Sun going down while yet day. 333 

something to say, either in the way of admonition or 
consolation, as she thought most suitable, to every one 
she saw. To her most constant attendant she said, » Be 
sure you continue to call upon the Lord ; and if you 
think he does not hear you now, he will at last, as he 
has heard me." She spoke a great deal to an intimate 
friend, who was with her every day, which I hope she 
will long remember as the testimony of her dying Eliza. 
Amongst other things she said, " See how comfortable 
the Lord can make a dying bed ! Do you think that 
you shall have such an assurance when you come to 
die?" Being answered, "I hope so, my dear," she 
replied, » But do you earnestly and with all your heart 
pray to the Lord for it ? If you seek him you shall 
surely find him." She then prayed affectionately and 
fervently for her friend, afterwards for her cousin, and 
then for another of our family, who was present. Her 
prayer was not long, but her every word was weighty, 
and her manner very affecting ; the purport was, that 
they might all be taught and comforted by the Lord. 
About five in the afternoon, she desired me to pray 
with her once more. Surely I then prayed from my 
heart. When I had finished, she said, Amen. I said, 
"My dear child, have I expressed your meaning?" 
She answered, -oh. yes !" and then added, "I am 
ready to say, Why arc his chariot wheels so long 
coming? But I hope he Avill enable me to wait his 
hour with patience." These were the last words I 
heard her speak. 



334 The Sleep in Jesus. 

Towards seven o'clock, I was walking in the garden, 
and earnestly engaged in prayer for her, when a servant 
came to me, and said, "She is gone." Lord, how 
great is thy power ! how great is thy goodness ! A few 
days before, had it been practicable and lawful, Avhat 
would I not have given to procure her recovery ! yet 
seldom in my life have I known a more heartfelt joy, 
than when these words, She is gone, sounded in my ears. 
I ran up stairs, and our whole little family were soon 
round her bed. Though her aunt and another person 
were sitting with their eyes fixed upon her, she was 
gone, perhaps, a few minutes before she was missed. 
She lay upon her left side, with her cheek gently 
reclining upon her hand as if in a sweet sleep. And I 
thought there was a smile on her countenance. Never, 
surely, did death appear in a more beautiful, inviting 
form ! We fell upon our knees, and (I think I may say), 
I returned my most unfeigned thanks to God and my 
Saviour, for his abundant goodness to her, crowned in 
this last instance by giving her so gentle a dismission. 
Yes, I am satisfied, I am comforted. And if one of the 
tears involuntarily shed could have recalled her to life, 
to health, to an assemblage of all that this world could 
contribute to her happiness, I would have laboured hard 
to suppress it. Now my largest desires for her are 
accomplished. The days of her mourning are ended. 
She is landed on that peaceful shore, where the storms 
of trouble never blow. She is for ever out of the reach 
of sorrow, sin, temptation, and snares. Now she is 



The Sun going down while yet Day. 835 

before the throne ! she sees him, whom not having seen, 
she loved ; she drinks of the rivers of pleasure, which 
are at his right hand, and shall thirst no more. 

She was born at St. Margaret's, Rochester, Febru- 
ary 6, 1771. 

She breathed her spirit into her Redeemer's hands, a 
little before seven in the evening, on the 6th of Octo- 
ber, 1785, aged fourteen years and eight months. 

I shall be glad if this little narrative may prove an 
encouragement to my friends who have children. May 
Ave not conceive the Lord saying to us, as Pharaoh's 
daughter said to the mother of Moses, " Take this child 
and bring it up for me, and I will pay thee thy wages." 
How solemn the trust ! how important and difficult the 
discharge of it ! but how rich the reward if our endea- 
vours are crowned with success ! And we have every- 
thing to hope from his power and goodness, if, in depend- 
ence upon his blessing, we can fully and diligently aim 
at fulfilling his will. Happy they who will say at the 
last day, "Behold, here am I, and the children which 
thou hast given me." 

The children of my friends will likewise see my nar- 
rative. May it convince them that it is practicable and 
good to seek the Lord betimes ! My dear Eliza's state 
of languor prevented her from associating with young 
people of her own age, so frequently and freely as she 
might Otherwise have dune. But these papers will come 
into the hands of some such, whom she knew, and whom 
she loved. To them I particularly commend and dedi- 



336 The Sleep in Jesus. 

cate this relation. Oh ! my dear young friends, had 
you seen with what dignity of spirit she filled up the 
last scene of her life, you must have been affected by it ! 
Let not the liveliness of your spirits, and the gayety of 
the prospects around you, prevent you from considering 
that to you likewise days will certainly come (unless 
you are suddenly snatched out of life), when you will 
say, and feel, that the world, and all in it, can afford 
you no pleasure. But there is a Saviour, and a mighty 
One, always near, always gracious to those who seek 
him. May you, like her, be enabled to choose him, as 
the Guide of your youth, and the Lord of your hearts. 
Then, like her, you will find support and comfort under 
affliction, wisdom to direct your conduct, a good hope 
in death, and by death a happy translation to everlast- 
ing life. 

I have only to add my prayer, that a blessing from 
on high may descend upon the persons and families of 
all my friends, and upon all into whose hands this 

paper may providentially come. 

John Newton. 






The Sun going down while yet Day. 337 



Scriptural Selections. 

Remember now thy Creator in the days of thy youth, while the 
evil days come not, nor the years draw nigh, when thou shalt say, I 
have no pleasure in them. — Ecclesiastes, xii. 1. 

Father, I will that they also whom thou hast given me be with me 
where I am ; that they may behold my glory, which thou hast given 
me: for thou lovedst me before the foundation of the world. — John, 
xvii. 24. 

In my Father's house are many mansions : if it were not so, I would 
have told you. I go to prepare a place for you. 

And if I go and prepare a place for you, I will come again, and 
receive you unto myself: that where I am, there ye may be also. — 
John, xiv. 2, 3. 

Precious in the sight of the Lord is the death of his saints. — 
l's. cxvi. 15. 

The righteous perisheth, and no man layeth it to heart; and 
merciful men are taken away, none considering that the righteous is 
taken away from the evil to come. 

II' -hall enter into peace: they shall rest in their beds, each one 
walking in his uprightness. — Isaiah, lviii. 1, 2. 



■l:j 



338 The Sleep in Jesus. 



Weep not for Her! 

Weep not for her ! her span was like the sky, 
Whose thousand stars shine beautiful and bright, 

Like flowers that know not what it is to die, 

Like long-linked shadeless months of polar light, 

Like music floating o'er a waveless lake, 

While echo answers from the flowery brake, 
Weep not for her 1 

Weep not for her ! she died in early youth, 
Ere hope had lost its rich romantic hues, 

When human bosoms seemed the home of truth, 
And earth still gleamed with beauty's radiant dews. 

Her summer prime waned not to days that freeze, 

Her wine of life was not run to the lees, 
Weep not for her ! 

Weep not for her ! By fleet or slow decay 
It never grieved her bosom's core to mark 

The playmates of her childhood wane away, 

Her prospects wither, and her hopes grow dark. 

Translated by her God with spirit shriven, 

She passed, as 'twere on smiles, from earth to heaven : 
Weep not for her ! 

Weep not for her ! It was not hers to feel 
The miseries that corrode amassing years, 

'Gainst dreams of baffled bliss the heart to steel, 
To wander sad down age's vale of tears, 



The Sun going down while yet Day. 



:39 



As whirl the withered leaves from friendship's tree, 
And on earth's wintry world alone to be ; 
Weep not for her ! 

Weep not for her ! She is an angel now, 
And treads the sapphire floors of Paradise, 

All darkness wiped from her refulgent brow, 
Sin, sorrow, suffering, banished from her eyes, 

Victorious over death, to her appears 

The vista'd joys of heaven's eternal years ; 
Weep not for her ! 

Weep not for her ! Her memory is the shrine 
Of pleasant thoughts soft as the scent of flowers, 

Calm as on windless eve the sun's decline, 
Sweet as the song of birds among the bowers, 

Rich as a rainbow with its hues of light, 

Pure as the moonlight of an autumn night : 
Weep not for her ! 

Weep not for her ! There is no cause of woe 
But rather nerve the spirit that it walk 

Unshrinking o'er the thorny path below, 

A ill from earth's low defilements keep thee back. 

80 when a few fleet swerving years have flown, 

She '11 meet thee at heaven's gate — and lead thee on 
Weep not for her ! 



The Noontide Eclipse. 

"J will cause the sv,n to go down at noon, and I will darken the earth in the clear day."— 

Amos, vih. 9. 

THE sudden shutting out of sunlight by an eclipsing 
moon, is a solemn and impressive scene. The face 
of nature wears, at such times, a strange and peculiar 
aspect. The animal creation is overcome with instinct- 
ive dread, and man, even though science has taught 
him to unveil this mystery of the skies, is awe-struck 
and humbled by the sublime phenomenon. 

As the earth enters the penumbra, and the rays of 
the sun are first shorn of their light and heat, there 
arises a general feeling of expectation mingled with 
fear. Millions of eyes are turned heavenward, and 
when at last the moon encroaches on the sun's eastern 
limb, and slowly but surely obscures his bright disc, 
nearly every face in the shadowy belt is gazing upon 
the apparently extinguished orb in wonder, and unwill- 
ingly admitted alarm. 

And is not the going out of a great life like the noon- 
tide eclipse ? Is there not in the covering up in the 
grave of a form, once noble, active, and influential, 
something like the obscuration of the midday sun? 

There certainly is, and it requires but a slight effort of 

(340) 



The Noontide Eclipse. 341 

imagination to seize upon many of the points of 
parallel. 

In human estimation the horizon of life, that point 
■where the confines of the two worlds, the present and 
the future, meet and intermingle, is the far-off period 
of old age. Every man looks forward to the setting of 
his sun of life behind that western horizon, and scarcely 
dreams that it may go out suddenly at midday. Hence, 
death, in the years of manhood or womanhood, — after 
the powers of mind and body have reached their meridian 
height, and before the shadows of the evening begin 
to be stretched out, may be termed a noontide eclipse — 
a going down of the sun at midday. 

It seems, at times, strange to us that God should so 
often call away persons from the active and influential 
duties of middle life, when they are apparently in the 
very zenith of their usefulness, and most needed in the 
world. We can only stand by in mute wonder and sub- 
mission, as we behold the great props of the state or 
the church stricken down, when their supporting 
shoulders were most needed to uphold tho incumbent 
edifice; or witness the great lights of learning and 
science gradually fade away in the firmament when their 
beams were most vivifying and enlightening. We ponder 
with ourselves, how differently we should have arranged 
the event ; we even, perhaps, question the wisdom of the 
deed, and we ask, with an ill-concealed repining at 
the Divine will, Why doeth God these things? But in 
this we are both ignorant and foolish. We are so 



342 The Sleep in Jesus. 

accustomed to associate human machinery with divine 
purposes, that, when we behold a person occupying an 
important post in the councils of the church or nation, 
we at once associate the idea of such a necessary con- 
nexion between the two as to make his removal per- 
fectly disastrous. Here is one surrounded by a large 
family — its supporting life and centre: to take him 
away is like removing the nave of a wheel — the radiating 
spokes have no support, and the felloe is crushed and 
splits asunder at the first revolution. Here is another, 
the head and leader of an important system of agencies 
for the extension of Christ's kingdom ; nothing ap- 
parently can be done without his aid and counsel: and 
to remove him would derange a whole system of well- 
devised plans, and, perhaps, destroy them altogether. 
Here is another, a minister of Christ, the pastor of a 
large and influential congregation, the wielder of great 
moral strength, the doer of important service to the 
church, the motive power to a moral enginery, the value 
of which cannot be computed. His life seems essential 
to the church, vast schemes of benevolence are hinged 
on him, and to do without him is to have a noonday 
eclipse. He cannot be spared; he must live, or the 
cause he sustains, like a tower of strength, will fail. 
Such are, oftentimes, men's views of their fellow men, 
and taking it for granted that they are true, they act 
accordingly. 

Several circumstances here conspire to make our 
views on this point exceedingly defective. One is, that 



The Noontide Eclipse. 343 

we look only at a small segment of the great circle of 
life, while God regards, with omniscient eye, the whole 
circumference of our being. How often has our own 
experience taught us that things which we earnestly 
desire, and even sinfully covet as necessary to our 
usefulness or comfort, would have proved, had they 
been granted to us, sources of real evil and permanent 
sorrow ! How often have we formed, as we supposed, 
wise plans ; secured, as we thought, their completion, 
been suddenly disappointed in carrying them into full 
execution, wept bitter tears perhaps over our failure, 
and then found, a few months or years afterwards, that, 
had those plans been successful, and our long-cherished 
hopes been gratified, it would have been most disastrous 
to our peace, and ruinous to our well-being ! "We make 
these mistakes daily ; we are continually correcting 
and readjusting our hopes and aims, and all this arises 
from the fact previously stated, that we look at our 
life only in the small section Avhich is presented to us 
day by day, and cannot take those comprehensive views 
which sweep around its entire circumference, and sur- 
vey the whole at a glance. So when we sec a standard- 
bearer of truth, a mighty man of intellectual valour, a 
great central light in the moral firmament, fall in the 
pddflt of the battle, or faint in the heat of the conflict, 
01 go out like an eclipsed sun at midday, we feel too 
much as if some great calamity had befallen our -world 
which could not be repaired, and arc too often led into 
murmuring as unseemly as it is unwise. Could we, for 



344 The Sleep in Jesus. 

a moment, occupy God's point of view, and see the 
plans of human existence as He sees them, we should 
immediately perceive the infinite wisdom of causing 
these dreaded eclipses in human life, and in thus 
cutting off our hopes at the moment of expected 
fruition. 

Not only is our range of thought limited to a very 
small segment of life's circle, but we still further err in 
basing all our views on things as they appear on earth. 
We judge according to the worldly aspects of the case, 
according to its temporal influence ; not considering 
that the relations of each individual, not only to this 
earth, but to time itself, are but a very small part of 
his outstanding relations to a world to come, and the 
eternity that stretches away beyond the grave. "No 
man," says the Apostle, "liveth to himself;" and we 
see, with our own eyes, how impossible it is for man to 
isolate himself from his fellows ; and may it not be that 
other, though to us invisible connexions, may link us 
to other classes of beings, and to future cycles of 
existence, which render the breaks and interruptions 
of earth necessary ; and hence, those things which seem 
to mar the harmonies of life, and make discords and 
woes in society, are requisite to the filling up of God's 
designs, which take in all worlds, all space, all duration. 
We are, certainly, not prepared to pronounce any event 
disastrous, evil, or unwise, until we have made our- 
selves acquainted with all the bearings and influences 
of that event in all worlds, through all space, and for 



The Noontide Eclipse. 345 

all time ; until, in fine, we occupy the stand point of 
Divinity itself. Could we but feel more seriously than 
we do, how small is the section of our knowledge, how 
short-sighted is our vision, what meagre minds we 
possess, what limits bound us on every side, we should 
not, methinks, be so arrogant, presumptuous, or dog- 
matic ; we should not question God's wisdom, or impugn 
his justice, of asperse his mercy ; we should not give 
way to such impatient repining, such fault-finding 
sorrow, such sinful despair. We should, on the con- 
trary, comfort ourselves, under bereavements, with the 
thought that God doeth all things well ; that though 
inscrutable to us, they were wisely ordered by him, 
and his course would yet be vindicated from all 
cavils before the assembled universe, when the multi- 
tudes that circle about the Great White Throne shall 
shout with one acclaim " God is right — God is true — 
God is just — God is love !" We shall then see how, 
while He made what we deemed our interest subservient 
to his glory, He yet made his glory our highest good, 
causing us to fulfil the great ends of being more and 
more as we aim to advance his glory, the reflected 
Splendour of which constitutes the highest bliss of saint 
and seraph, in earth and heaven. 

If then, the whole of life was summed up in what we 
sec of it this side the grave — if we were made to be 
the dwellers for a little season on this earth alone — 
or if the great end of existence was to glorify and 
exalt ourselves, then, indeed, the removal of friends 



346 



The Sleep in Jesus. 



in the meridian hour, or the sudden extinguishment 
of hope when it flamed brightest in the zenith, might 
be regarded as a dire calamity — a sad eclipse, and 
we might even deem it cruel for God thus to cause 
the sun to go down at noon, and to darken the earth 
in the clear day. But as life here is but the dawn 
of an eternal being ; as the earth is but the proba- 
tionary school of a higher existence ; as God's glory, 
and not self-interest, is man's chief end and aim, so 
are we debarred, by this exalted Christian philosophy, 
from unduly repining, or casting blame on God, when 
he obscures to us the greater lights which rule in 
the day of our moral, or social, or political firmament. 
He never eclipses them until they have done all their 
appointed work. If the sun goes down at noon, it is 
because that was its ordained boundary. And not 
only may we have this assurance, but we may add to 
it another, namely, that God never removes his serv- 
ants from earth until the hour has arrived when he 
requires their service nearer to his person in heaven. 

"Learn," says an old writer, " to pray moderately 
for the lives of Christ's people. Who can tell but 
what Christ and we are praying counter to one 
another ? He may be saying in heaven, ' Father, I 
will have such an one to be with me where I am ;' and 
we saying on earth, ' Lord we would have him to be 
with us where we are.' We saying 'we cannot spare 
him as yet ;' and Christ saying < I will be no longer 
without him.' It is the force of this prayer of Christ, 



The Noontide Eclipse. 347 

<I -will have them to he with me where I am,' that is 
the cause of the death of the godly. It is the force of 
this prayer that carries away so many of the saints in 
our day." 

These are the enlarged views which it becomes us to 
take of what, in their earthly aspect, may he called 
noontide eclipses; especially when it respects our 
Christian relatives and friends. Every other view is 
narrow, unsatisfactory, and unscriptural. The coming 
in of death between us and the dear objects of our love 
and veneration, at a time when they appear to ride the 
highest and shine the brightest in their career of use- 
fulness and honour, does not for ever obscure their 
light, or obliterate their beams, any more than the 
intervening moon blots out the sun, which it yet for a 
time hides from sight. For though these loved ones 
are eclipsed to us, they are not obscured to the eye of 
God. We cannot see them again in the flesh, for they 
have passed within the veil ; but they are still seen, 
still loved by their Heavenly Father, their Ascended 
Saviour, their Divine Comforter. They shine Avith 
even a brighter light than before their obscuration ; for 
they are fuller of light in themselves, and their beams 
are not dimmed by the clouds and vapours which so 
obscured their earthly lustre. There is no eclipse in 
heaven ; the soul that once begins its lustrous glory 
there, will ever emit the same holy rays, with a per- 
petually increasing intensity of spiritual light. 

Stevens. 



348 The Sleep in Jesus. 



Scriptural Selections. 

They meet with darkness in the day-time, and grope in the noon- 
day as in the night. — Job, v. 14. 

One dieth in his full strength, being wholly at ease and quiet.— 
Job, xxi. 23. 

For to me to live is Christ, and to die is gain. 

For I am in a strait betwixt two, having a desire to depart, and to 
be with Christ ; which is far better!— Philippicfos, i. 21, 23. 

Therefore we are always confident, knowing that, whilst we are at 
home in the body, we are absent from the Lord : 

(For we walk by faith, and not by sight) : 

We are confident, I say, and willing rather to be absent from tho 
body, and to be present with the Lord. 

Wherefore we labour, that, whether present or absent, we may be 
accepted of him —2 Cor. v. 6-9. 



The Noontide Eclipse. 349 



He has gone to his God ; he has gone to his home ; 
No more amid peril and error to roam : 
His eyes are no longer dim ; 

His feet 'will no longer falter ; 
No grief can follow him ; 
No pang his cheek can alter. 

There are paleness and weeping and sighs below; 
For our faith is faint and our tears will flow ; 
But the harps of heaven are ringing ; 

Glad angels come to greet him, 
And hymns of joy are singing, 

While old friends press to meet him. 

! honoured, beloved, to earth unconfined, 
Thou hast soared on high, thou hast left us behind. 
But our parting is not for ever, 

We will follow thee by heaven's light, 
Where the grave cannot dissever 
The souls whom God will unite. 



The Setting Sun. 



Thr xhu<l<>v$ <>f tin: rrrniiKj .in: str< frlicd < 



THERE is something at once grand and solemn in a 
setting sun. It is the sinking to rest of the great 
king of day ; the withdrawing from the busy world the 
light that has called out its activity, and the covering 
up with the veil of darkness the scenes that glistened 
with the radiance of noon. 

As the sun rose in the morning, it awoke the world 
from slumber, and sent its teeming millions to their 
tasks and pleasures. As it poised itself for a moment in 
the meridian, it shone upon an active, bustling, life- 
filled hemisphere ; and now that it touches the edge of 
the western sky, and gradually shuts its burning eye, 
it proclaims a day of work ended, a night of rest ad- 
vancing, the cessation of toil and business, and the 
coming in of quiet, sleep, and silence. This change, 
though so little considered, is very marvellous and 
striking — from brightness to darkness — from noonday 
with its garish light, to midnight with its sombre black- 
ness — from the din and bustle of intense activity, to 
the repose and silence of hushing slumber — from 

scenes gay and blithe in all the adornments of art, and 

(350) 



The Setting Sun. 351 

decked with the painted splendours of meridian light, 
to scenes of stillness, darkness, and death-like sleep. 

There is, however, in the setting of the sun of life 
that which is equally grand, still more solemn, and 
surpassingly sublime. For 

The sun is but a spark of fire — 
A transient meteor in the sky, — 
The Socl, immortal as its Sire, 
Shall never die. 

The Soul, of origin divine, 
God's glorious image, freed from clay, 
In heaven's eternal sphere shall shine, 
A star of day. 

Though the soul, by virtue of its immortality, and 
the eternal interests connected with it, is thus infinitely 
superior to the sun, which is but a mass of inanimate 
matter, and which, when it has served its purpose, shall 
be blotted out, yet there are several striking analo- 
gies between the setting of the sun of nature, and the 
setting of the sun of life, which suggest profitable con- 
siderations. In speaking of a human sunset, we re- 
strict our thoughts to those only who die in the Lord, 
and so sleep in Jesus. 

The sun when it sets lias run a whole day's circuit; 
his pathway has apparently traversed an entire arc 
of the heavens, and slowly, patiently, but surely, it has 
done its allotted work. And so the aged Christian, 

when he dies, is described as having "run his race," as 
having « finished his course/' He has perhaps traversed 
the allotted distance of human life. He has passed 



352 The Sleep in Jesus. 

each of its threescore-and-ten milestones, and now stands 
at the verge of the horizon, waiting to sink to rest in 
the everlasting arms. He has toiled a whole day of 
life, and has come to his grave in a " good old age," hav- 
ing " finished the work which was given him to do ;" 
and though all his labours have been imperfectly done, 
though he himself feels more deeply than he can express 
his unprofitableness before God, yet he looks for accept- 
ance, not to any merit or deservings of his own, but 
only for Christ Jesus' sake, who of God and by faith 
is made unto him » wisdom and righteousness, and sanc- 
tification, and redemption." We can contemplate with 
satisfaction, then, the aged disciple, having " borne the 
burden and heat of the day," patiently waiting for the 
stretching out of the evening shadows, and the hour of 
his own sunset. His life has been consecrated to Christ. 
He has endeavoured to walk by faith, not by sight. 
He has set the Lord always before him, and has run 
with patience the Christian race, " looking unto Jesus." 
He has relaxed his hold upon the world ; he has re- 
nounced all righteousness in and of himself. He looks 
alone for salvation to the perfect and finished work of 
his blessed Redeemer, and, resting his whole soul and 
its eternal interests in the pierced hands of Him who 
died that he might live, he quietly waits his appointed 
time, and, strong in the abounding grace of God to all 
who believe in Jesus Christ, he is enabled to say, with 
a modest, though well assured triumph, " I have fought 
a good fight, I have finished my course, I have kept 
the faith ; henceforth there is laid up for me a crown of 



The Setting Sun. 353 

glory, •which the Lord, the righteous Judge, will give me 
in that day." 

Another point to be considered is, the fact that the 
setting of the sun is not always like the day which it 
closes. The morning may have been bright, and the 
evening hour dark -with tempests ; or the rising may 
have been obscured by clouds and mists, -which gra- 
dually faded away and left a clear sky at sunset. How 
often, after nearly a whole day of rain and dullness, has 
the descending sun broken through the clouds on the 
horizon, and shone out between the rifted vapours with a 
gorgeousness all the more glorious, because of the pre- 
ceding gloom ! Nay, how have those very storm mists, 
which gathered around the west in dark and heavy 
folds, or which rolled upwards in murky convolutions, 
been so gilded with his light as to shine like burnished 
metal, as if the sky was plated with Solomon's " three 
hundred shields of beaten gold," making the whole west 
a scene of inexpressible glory. 

So the sunset hour of Christian life does not always 
correspond to his previous day. "We have seen the 
last hours of the believer shrouded in impenetrable 
gloom, and we have seen them gilded with hope and 
radiant with the forecast glories of the upper world. 
The way in which a Christian dies is not always an 
index of his spiritual condition. He is to be judged by 
his life, not by his death. The great virtues which 
make up Christian character arc neither developed nor 
called into action on a dying bed; and it is not in the 
(■motions and feelings manifested there, that we are 



354 The Sleep in Jesus. 

chiefly to look for evidences of a gracious state. Self- 
denial, the mortification of our passions, the crucifying 
ourselves to the world, the resisting of earthly tempta- 
tions, the putting into active exercise, and amidst 
opposing difficulties, the whole class of Christian affec- 
tions which flow out from the simple principle of loving 
our neighbour as ourselves, and the manifestation of 
that life of faith, of prayer, of holiness, of zeal, which 
necessarily results from the constraining love of Christ 
in the heart ; all these qualities and tests of character 
scarcely find a place on a dying bed, so that persons 
thus situated have few opportunities to develop the 
true evidences of the work of grace. We read, indeed, 
of many marked and happy deathbeds, but we also 
read of many closing hours of Christian life, where the 
believer had no special manifestations of divine favour, 
where no time even has been given for the utterance of 
feelings, and where even a melancholy bordering on 
despair has cast a sombre hue over the going down of 
the disciple's sun. We have in our mind's eye cases of 
each of these, where, however, not the slightest doubt 
existed as to the real conversion of the individual, or 
as to his final acceptance in the Beloved. There are 
some Christians who may be called weepers and 
mourners nearly all their days ; their deep conscious- 
ness of sin, their extreme sensitiveness to evil, their 
ever present fear to offend God, make their eyes to run 
down with tears night and day ; and so perhaps it con- 
tinues until the evening sun bursts through the falling 
mists, and paints a beautiful bow of promise on the 



The Setting Sun. 355 

raindrops of penitential sorrow. There are others 
whose faith is blurred and indistinct ; they have no clear 
and well defined appreciation of the great truths of the 
Bible ; their sky of religious experience is overcast with 
a thin layer of cloud, which, while it does not shut out 
the light or heat of the sun, prevents the eye from 
viewing it distinctly, or from enjoying its unveiled 
splendour. They live, perhaps for years, in this almost 
twilight Christianity, but as they approach the grave 
the vapours become thinner and thinner, until a clear 
strip of blue lies above the horizon, and the descending 
sun shines out full-orbed and glorious ere he sinks to 
his evening rest. There are others, whose experience 
is April-like : a fleckered sky is over their heads, and 
alternate light and shade fall upon their path : and some- 
times these come to the grave rejoicing, sometimes 
sorrowing, sometimes they go down amidst a blaze of 
golden glory, and sometimes massive doubts and fears 
are banked up like clouds over the west, so that they 
seem to set in darkness. These varieties of Christian 
experience are literally innumerable ; but whatever then- 
nature, we must not judge of the validity of one's hope, 
or the genuineness of one's conversion, by his dying hour. 
Yet, when that dying hour accords with a long life of 
piety, or a true profession maintained in health and 
strength; when it is but a concentrating within itself 
of the glories which have been more or less visible in 
the whole track of his experience, then is it eloquent in 
its revelations of tin' riches and peace and joy, which God 
generally gives t" those who are faithful unto death; 



356 The Sleep in Jesus. 

and though we cannot order when or how our lives 
shall close upon earth, yet it should be our aim so to 
live as to secure, if God pleases, a serene, if not a 
triumphant exit, that our setting sun may, like the sun 
in the firmament, grow large and more resplendent as 
it declines, until passing away it shall leave behind it a 
trail of glory spread all over the place of our departure. 
Another interesting thought connected with this 
subject is, that the sun is not lost or extinguished when 
it sets. This may seem a very trite remark concerning 
the natural sun, but it is not so trite when we speak of 
the soul-set in death. For are we not apt to grieve 
over the going down of our friends to the grave, as if 
they were to be for ever hidden in its dark chamber, or 
as if the bright spark of their immortality had been 
suddenly quenched ? They have gone from us ; the 
horizon of death shuts them out of view ; their light of 
love, of hope, of piety, shines no more upon us, and we 
shall never again behold them in the flesh ; but they 
are no more lost, than the sun is lost when his red disc 
rolls down behind the western hills ; they are no more 
extinguished than the burning orb of day is quenched 
when he sinks beneath the waves of the ocean ; for, as 
the sun leaving us in darkness still lights up other 
lands, so our departed ones shine in another sphere of 
existence still, not lost, not extinguished, but, if the 
friends of Christ, made to glow with a brighter light 
and a more enduring glory. When, therefore, we 
stand by their coffins, by their graves, or return sad 
and heavy-laden to their vacant dwellings, we should 



The Setting Sun. 357 

not mourn for them as those without hope, we should 
not give vent to grief as though they were lost to us 
altogether : they are hidden, but not lost, removed from 
our sight, but not extinct ; they are still alive, only with 
a more exquisite vitality unfettered by sin, unencum- 
bered by flesh, undefiled by the world, dwelling as re- 
deemed spirits in the paradise of God. 

And this remark leads us to make one final observa- 
tion, viz. that when we see the sun set, we know that it 
will rise again ; and so when we see the body of our 
friends borne to the voiceless dwelling of the tomb, we 
know that they also shall rise again. 

Every night of death is followed by a resurrection 
morning. How precious is the thought as connected 
with God's people, that they shall rise from the dead ! 
How rise ? With glorified bodies, upon which the 
second death has no power. Rise by what power ? By 
the mighty power of God. Rise when ? When the 
Lord Jesus shall be revealed from heaven with all his 
mighty angels, then shall they be caught up to meet 
him in the air. Rise to what ? To glory, honour, and 
immortality in the presence-chamber of God. How these 
thoughts light up with brightness every sepulchre of the 
righteous ! How the doctrine of the resurrection throws 
a halo over every Christian's head-stone, and makes 
each open grave a little postern-gate leading into glory ! 

Reader, have you lost a father, mother, brother, 
sister, wife, husband, child, or lover, and were they 
Christ's before they died? Then lift up your heads, 
wipe away your tear-, cheer up your hearts, for they 



358 The Sleep in Jesus. 

shall come forth again before your face. Their sunset, 
though it left you in gloom and midnight sorrow, will 
soon be followed by the dawn of Resurrection day ; 
and when the archangel's trump shall sound out over 
land and sea, awaking the myriads who slumber in 
earth's bosom, then shall your beloved ones who 
sunk to rest in Jesus, rise again, and go forth to meet 
and glorify their adorable Redeemer. 

Thoughts like these cluster around the setting sun 
of the aged disciple of Jesus : Why should we wish to 
detain him ? his work is done. Why desire to hold 
him back from the grave ? it is through the gate and 
grave of death that he passes to his inheritance above. 
Why be inconsolable at his departure ? he is not lost, 
neither is the light of his mind or heart extinguished. 
Why mourn as those who have no hope, beside his 
tombstone ? He shall not lie there long. He is 
planted there in the likeness of Christ's death, that he 
may rise with Christ to the resurrection of eternal life ; 
and not many more days shall roll over you, ere you 
and they shall all rise again ; » they that have done 
good to the resurrection of life, and they that have 
done evil to the resurrection of damnation." 

Rejoice rather when one you love, who is full of days 
and full of grace, sets like a sun behind the horizon of 
life. Rejoice, for he shall rise again ; and when that 
morning of the resurrection dawns, it will usher in a 
day that has no clouds, a day that has no sunset, and 
a day that is followed by no night of sorrow or of death. 

Stevens. 



The Setting Sun. 359 



Scriptural Selection. 

[Ix no pages, human or divine, has the decrepitude of age, and the 
gradual dying out of the physical powers of man, his sunset after a 
long day of life, been so graphically as -well as poetically portrayed 
as iu the twelfth chapter of the Book of Ecclesiastes. 

The aim of Solomon in this chapter is to urge upon the young an 
early remembrance of God, and he enforces his exhortation by so 
setting forth the infirmities of age as to show that that period is 
entirely unfitted for the great work of turning unto God.] 

"Remember now thy Creator in the days of thy youth, while the 
evil days come not, nor the years draw nigh, when thou shalt say, I 
have no pleasure in them. 

"While the sun, or the light, or the moon, or the stars be not 
darkened, nor the clouds return after the rain : 

"In the day when the keepers of the house shall tremble, and the 
strong men shall bow themselves, and the grinders cease because 
they are few, and those that look out of the windows be darkened. 

" And the doors shall be shut in the streets, when the sound of the 
grinding is low, and he shall rise up at the voice of the bird, and all 
the daughters of music shall be brought low. 

"Also when they shall be afraid of that which is high, and fears 
shall be in the way, and the almond-tree shall flourish, and the grass- 
hopper shall be a burden, and desire Bhall fail; because man gocth to 
his long home, and the mourners go about the streets : 

" Or ever the silver curd be loosed, or the golden bowl be broken, or 
ill,, pitcher be broken at the fountain, or the wheel broken at the 
oi tern : 

"Then shall the dus< return to the earth as it was: and the spirit 
Bhall return unto God who gave it."— Ecclesiastes, xii. 1-7. 



360 T e Sleep in Jesu: 



Life's Sunset. 

As calmly sinks the setting sun 
To realms of gold in gorgeous skies, 

"When day and all its toils are done — 
In glorious peace the good man dies. 

As glow the stars when darkness falls, 
To cheer the close of fading day, 

So, brightening hopes, when death appala 
From Heaven gleam to light his way. 

As peaceful clouds along the sky 

Retain the glories of the sun, 
In memory bright are floating by 

His deeds of love in meekness done. 

He dies ! — as, passed the dreary night, 
The sun 'mid streams of light appears ; 

So, passed the vale, a holier light 
Bespeaks the glorious crown he wears. 

Thou, who art enthroned on high ! 

To me Thy saving grace be given 
To live, and like the good man die ; 

Like him, be crowned of thee in Heaven. 



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highest style of mezzotint. 1 11 u.-tra t <<1 1 «_v Appropriate Articles 
and Verse. This second scries or volume of the Cabinet ifl entirely 
different in illustrations and letterpress from the first aeries or volume. 
1 vol. Svo. Bound in mnslin, gilt Bides and edgeB, $8.75 j Turkey 
mortcoo, panelled sides, $4.50; half cull', $1.50; full oalf, $6.00. 

15 



Read's Female Poets of America. 

( Fifth edition, enlarged.) The Female Poets of America ; with biographical 
notices and specimens of their writings. By Thomas Buchanan Read, 
(the "Poet Artist") Elegantly Illustrated, with Portraits of Mrs. 
Oakes Smith, Mrs. Sigourney, Mrs. Osgood, Mrs. Embury, Mrs. Ellet, 
Mrs. Hale, Mrs. Welby, Miss Lynch, Mrs. Kinney, and Grace Green- 
wood, and three splendid Illuminations by Devereux. Elegantly 
bound in Turkey morocco, panelled sides, $6.75 ; muslin, gilt and gilt 
edges, $5.62 : 1 vol. imperial Svo. 



Hart's Female Prose Writers of America. 

The Female Prose Writers of America ; with Biographical Notices and 
Specimens of their Writings. By John S. Hart, LL.D. Elegantly 
Illustrated, with Portraits of Mrs. Kirkland, Miss Sedgwick, Miss 
Mcintosh, Margaret Fuller, Mrs. Stephens, Mrs. Hentz, Mrs. Judson, 
and Mrs. Neal, engraved in London in the first style of art; and two 
splendid Illuminations by Devereux, all from original drawings. Ele- 
gantly bound in Turkey morocco, panelled sides, $6.75: muslin, gilt 
and gilt edges, $5.62. 1 vol. imperial Svo. 



Tupper's Proverbial Philosophy. 

Duodecimo. Proverbial Philosophy ; a Book of Thoughts and Arguments 
originally treated. By Martin Farquhar Tupper, D. C. L., F. R. S. 
Revised and authorized edition, splendidly illustrated with twelve 
Engravings. To which is added, An Essay on the Philosophy of 
Proverbs. By James Orton, Esq. 1 vol. 12mo. Bound in Turkey 
morocco, gilt, $2.62; muslin, gilt and gilt sides, $2.00. 



Tupper's Poetical Works. 

Tupper's Poetical Works— authorized edition. Ballads for the Times, A 
Thousand Lines, Hactenus, Geraldine, and other Poems. By Martin 
Farquhar Tupper, D. C. L., F. R. S. To which is added a Biogra- 
phical Sketch of the Author, by William Anderson, Esq., author of 
" Landscape Lyrics." Illustrated with elegant Engravings. 1 vol. 
12mo. Bound in Turkey Morocco, gilt and gilt edges, $2.62; muslin, 
gilt and gilt edges, $2.00. 



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